Clean
by American HOT Fender
Summary: After waking up in the hospital, a 26 year old Helga lands herself in rehab for drug and alcohol abuse. Bob wants her cleaned up but while she's there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted them both. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway? Find out! It's the final countdown! R&R!
1. Weapon of Choice

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

**A/N:** Hello all! This is my second fic. It's a plot I've been thinking about for awhile. I'm going to be exploring a heavier, more mature and realistic direction in this one. If you like angsty and dramatic Hey Arnold stories, then look no further!

**CAUTION:** This is a slow burn of a story, and what I mean by that is that it is going to take a little while for the plot to develop because there is a lot going on. I you're looking for something that just hits you the face, then this probably isn't for you, however if you're into something a little more in depth, look no further!

**HOUSE KEEPING:** So this story is going to be rated 'T' as far as I can see, however, if you're queasy about drug use or drinking or are in anyway offended by some foul language, than this probably isn't for you. If there is anything that I should put into the story in the future that is mature content, the beginning of the chapter will be clearly marked as such.

* * *

**Weapon of Choice**

"I'll move to Paris, shoot some heroin,

And fuck with the stars,

You man the island, and the cocaine,

And the elegant cars,

This is our decision to live fast and die young,

We've got the vision, now lets have some fun." -MGMT (Time To Pretend)

* * *

"I'd have to say my whole life I've been causing other people pain. My problems started as a child with my deep insecurities about myself and only got worse as I got older. My life became such a roller coaster ride that I felt like I was too far gone to be pulled back by anybody, and you want to know the pathetic thing about it? I was loving every bit of my train wreck. How many of you are feeling that way right now?"

The young blonde woman finished her short monolog, leaning over and propping her elbows on the back of a chair she'd been standing behind. She was in a very plain white room, with dirty square tile flooring. A dozen brown metal fold up chairs were scattered out into a circle. Sitting in the chairs were youth delinquents wearing bright orange jump suits and scowls. Some sat bored, looking towards the floor; a few faced the blonde giving the speech to them. It wasn't their choice to be there, they were forced.

Her question echoed around the silent room. She looked around the circle at the shy but un-enthused teens. She wouldn't force anything out of them; she knew exactly how they were feeling. She was their age once. Surprisingly to her though, slowly but surely a few of them did limply pull their arms up into the air.

She straightened up, pulling her elbows off the chair and slowly walking around and sitting down in it.

She sighed "Even though you love it, you can't help but want to die at the same time right?"

A few of the teenagers that raised their hands stiffly nodded, most staring at the floor, avoiding eye contact.

"It's not too late to stop it all, and get a fresh start to life," She replied to the nods.

"What makes you so sure of that?" She was cut off by a member of the group speaking out. He was a tan skinned boy, rather small for his age. He sat leaning his elbows on his knees, his eyes as troubled as they come and his hands fidgety.

"I've been there and back," The blonde woman answered him, raising her eye brows.

The young boy sighed and rolled his eyes, obviously not buying a word of what this woman in front of him had to say.

He finally laughed a little, curling his thin lips into a quick grin. "You're full of shit."

"All right, whatever you choose to believe is okay," She shrugged, nodding to him sympathetically.

A second rough laugh escaped his throat, a smokers laugh. "Okay, lets here it then. Lets here what makes _you _think you can come in here and tell _me_ that it's not too late," He pointed his index finger to her. A challenge.

The blonde woman sighed and leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees. She looked around the circle at the faces and then to the particular boy she'd been conversing with, smirking before a tiny chuckle fluttered from her mouth.

"Okay then…"

* * *

**(_3Years Earlier)_**

Helga Pataki had never been one that was told what to do. She'd never been one to follow orders or abide by most rules, especially ones she considered ridiculous conforms of society. You only lived one life, might as well make the most out of it, her personal motto and the way she lived from day to day. She smoked and drank hard to chase away her demons; however her tyranny of self-conscious destruction had taken a particularly cruel turn.

She loved the drugs

She wouldn't lie. They felt good. She craved the weekend binges of ecstasy, cocaine, and various pills, which led to the suicide Tuesday feeling of death warmed over. She'd wake up wanting to die as her body craved more and more, and her mind fought to ignore the constant scream from the reality of what her life really amounted to.

Today was her suicide Tuesday.

Her body was pathetically sore, stiff and her mouth cotton dry from dehydration. The golden rays of light poking through the white blinds of her bedroom window burnt the lids of her eyes, causing her to crinkle her face and turn away with a dejected groan. She felt like puking, her head pounding made things even worse. Out of the room and down the hall way she could hear the slight muffled noise of the TV on. She laid there continually breathing in and out, listening to her own tired ragged breaths enter and exit her body as she felt the cool air that circulated the room hit her face. It caused her to shiver.

She lay there in her bed for some time, continuing to listen to the muffled noise and her own breathing before she made the highly dreaded decision to actually get up. She sat up, tossing her legs over the side of the bed, the jack hammer in her head chiseling away. Leaning over, she put her head in her hands, in pathetic attempt to relieve the pain.

Helga finally did get up out of the bed a short time later and stiffly, walked to her dresser, opened the top drawer, and rooted through un-folded and un-organized bits of clothing, grabbed a small plastic bag and ripped it out. She dumped the fine powdery substance on her dresser, just the little bit she had and made a line with it, quickly snorting it up, graciously welcoming the warm burning relief it brought her. With a wipe of her nose and a few blinks to compose herself, she headed off down the hall way into the her living room.

In the room, a small girl, the age of 6 sat in an old green chair watching cartoons on the TV. Her small hands wrapped around the large remote, trying her best to change the channels. Her little eyes brightened immensely seeing her mother slug into the room.

"Hey, sweetheart," Helga acknowledged her before continuing into the kitchen for a much needed drink. "How are you this morning?" She yawned, staring into the fridge's abyss. Plenty to drink, nothing she wanted.

"Good," Her little girl replied.

Helga finally settled for can of soda, and popped the top. "Did you have fun last night?" She asked before drinking about half of the can in one gulp.

"Yeah, me and Scott and Aunt Olga played board games and then watched Shrek," The girl put down the remote, and turned around in the chair.

"Well that's good, I'm glad you had fun," A slight smile graced her tired face. She paused, drinking the last bit of her beverage. "So what do you want to do today?"

"Don't you have to work?" The girls eye brow knitted, confusion written clearly upon her little face, but the traces of excitement over her mother's question were unmistakable.

"No, not today," Helga smiled, walking back out of the kitchen.

"Can we go to the park?" She sunk back into the chair, smiling as Helga bent down to her level.

"Whatever you want Sender," She smiled.

While Sender ran off to dress herself for the park, Helga headed back to her own bedroom, feeling the urge to collapse out of tiredness and immediately flopping back into her bed with a decapitated sigh. She grabbed her cell off of the bedside and flipped it open seeing several missed calls from a friend. Hitting, the redial button, she put the device to her ear anticipating an answer. Nobody picked up, and it really didn't surprise her.

She tossed the phone onto the bed before she got up to dress herself for the park. She figured it was probably decently cold outside, it was September. She rooted through her entire dresser pulling out random articles of clothing for a decision, finally deciding to just throw on a pair of jeans, a random tee shirt, and an old fleece she'd had for awhile. Who was she impressing? She put her straight blonde hair up in a messy bun, said 'good enough' to the mirror before brushing her teeth.

Sender was more than ready to go by the time Helga finished her morning prep. As most children do, she had been ready and itching to go _way before_ her mom. They grabbed everything they would need for the day, and headed out. Helga was less that enthusiastic about venturing out to the park as tired and drained as she was, but she was feeling more energized from her morning powder. At times, she really hated being a parent, for which she was very ashamed about and would never admit it to anyone. As soon as they were out of the apartment building she reached into her fleece pocket and grabbed a cigarette out of its box and a lighter, lit it up and took a quick drag off of it.

Smoking, another one of her many bad habits asserted in her unintentional quest of physical destruction.

The park was only a couple of blocks down from her apartment building, very much a walk able distance for her and her daughter. The walk was rather quiet between the pair, whilst the small city around them bustled quietly in the weekend morning. About midway through their short journey Helga's phone began to vibrate in her back pocket. Recognizing the number she flipped it open to answer it.

"Hello," She greeted.

_"Hey Helga,"_ A young woman's voice greeted her back, _"How ya feeling today?" _

"Like crap you?"

_"I guess you could say the same,"_ The girl laughed.

"So what are you doing?" She took one last drag off of her cigarette and flicked the butt away.

_"I'm just waking up, probably just going to lounge until tonight. You?"_

"Taking Sender to the park for a couple of hours," Helga grabbed her daughters hand as they began walking across the street.

_"Well isn't that cute. So you are going to that thing tonight with me right?"_

"What is it?" The blonde asked distractedly. They walked into the park gates and Sender ran off to play as Helga sat down at a pick-nick table that's glory days were obviously 50 years ago.

The girl sighed, _"That party at that dude Jason's house." _

"Oh yeah!" Helga laughed, "Is it going to be like just a party or what?"

_"It's supposed to be a big trip fest. Lots of powder, ETC, H, and stuff. Ya know."_

"Count me there."

_"7:30, be at my apartment. His house isn't far from me so we can walk."_

"Mom! Hurry up!" The young girl shouted to her mother from the swing she was perched in. "I want you to push me!"

"All right Aubrey, sounds good. Anyway I've got to go, motherhood calls," She sped up her words realizing how long she'd taken on the phone.

_"All right, see ya tonight. Bye!"_

"Bye," Helga shut the phone and jogged over to Sender.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," She smiled warmly down at her daughter, who made no attempt to hide the annoyance that etched her face. It was incredibly cute. "I promise, no more interruptions today."

* * *

Helga stood on a stone stoop shivering a bit from the chill that the night had brought with it. She'd knocked on the door atop the porch and was waiting for its occupant to answer. She didn't stand there too much long before her friend opened the door. She was a small girl, with brown hair and fair skin. She looked like she could add a few pounds and use a good nights rest. But she was Aubrey. No cares Aubrey.

"What's up?" Aubrey asked. Helga walked into the horribly messy apartment observing that it looked worse than normal. The girl was the poster child for un-organization. They walked into the living room where the TV was blaring some one-hit-wonder's music video from the 80's on MTV.

"I'm almost ready," Aubrey assured, grabbing the remote and turning down the noise from the TV.

Helga shrugged and her friend shuffled off into her bedroom.

"So you found somebody to watch Sender for you?"

"Yeah," Helga concurred, "My parents, I told them I had to go into work tonight."

"Nothing like a little white lie in the name of fun, eh?"Aubrey came back out of the bedroom empty handed but began rooting through the stuff piled in her living room. She found the beanie hat she was looking for and pulled it over her head snugly.

"Sheesh, don't make me feel guilty-That's what you were looking for?" Helga gawked, "That ugly ass hat?" She laughed

"Um, yeah! And its not ugly it's a great beanie," She patted the garment, squinting her face into a smart-ass smile.

"Whatever, lets go."

* * *

Music blared loudly around the tiny house, filled with more people than was surely deemed safe. It's occupants chatted, drank and smoked everywhere, abusing the abode for less than legal means. Helga and Aubrey sat on a puke green couch with a few other guys cutting white lines of cocaine on a glass coffee table. Helga was already feeling pretty good about the world around her. She sat, lazily on the couch twitching slightly from the pills she'd ingested a few minutes before. Feeling her muscles begin to relax and that feeling of being light and falling crept into her atmosphere.

It felt good. _So_, so good. And her night was getting ready to draw to a glorious conclusion. She'd feel it tomorrow but the after effects were petite compared to the goodness she felt at that moment.

Before she knew it, she was being nudged and instructed to 'do her line.' With a quick sniff, her portion hit her brain with a pop, and that ever familiar bitter taste licked at the back of her throat. She fell back on the couch her lips curling into a phased out smile despite the fact that her heart was racing at a million miles an hour and making her feel so hot that she just wanted nothing more than to rip her clothes off. Her lids fell, shielding her blurry eyes, welcoming the realms of her unconscious mind claim her.

Outside a small squadron of police officers gathered up to swarm the small house after being tipped off that it was a drug hut. Several officers scurried around to the back and sides while the remaining members readied their fire arms for the raid on the front. A very muscular chocolate man stood at the front door with several men behind him, weapons raised. He cocked his leg back and slammed it into the door, sending the door flying back on its hinges and wood splintering through the air.

"This is the police, everybody freeze!" His voice boomed through the small house. There was a mayhem of frenzy as the officers began swarming the house, arresting everybody in it. The man that kicked in the door headed into the living room area yelling for everybody to freeze. The fleet of people put their hands above their heads and then laid flat on the floor as they were told.

All but one.

He noticed a small blonde figure lying on the couch who hadn't moved during the shuffle. "Ma'am!" He shouted, gun still raised. She didn't move. He walked to her and gave her a tap on the check with his left hand, stalling for a moment as his eyes grew large at who it was.

"We need an ambulance in here now!" He shouted.

A fellow officer rounded the corner "What's the matter Johanssen?"

"She's not breathing!" Gerald holstered his gun and grabbed her head, jostling it a bit between his hands. He then laid her flat on the couch and began trying to administer CPR on her as the other cop radioed for an ambulance.

* * *

**A/N:** Whoo! First chapter is always the hardest. Let me know how you like it. Reviews are always good. Love those. Okay, I know this chapter is probably...quite heavy and depressing for some but this story will actually go into quite a different direction than what appears. I just don't want to give _too_ much away _too_ soon. Also, it will get a lot better! I promise!


	2. Taking A Ride

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**Taking a Ride**

"If you could see yourself,

Looking like you do,

What would you say you were thinking?

Spending all your time looking for something new,

You better swim cause you're sinking." -Reggie and the Full Effect (Bleeding Heart)

* * *

_**(2:23 a.m.)**_

A white hatched truck with flashing red lights sped into the covered over pass of the local emergency room during the dead of night. The vehicle's tires screeched on the pavement as its brakes locked up to come to a swift stop. Its white back doors burst open hard, seemingly almost off their hinges. A young man dressed in light blue scooted forward and jumped out of the back hauling, in hand, a gurney behind him. A second young man dressed the same, shuffled forward, pushing the cart out the back of the ambulance, and together than rolled the gurney through the sliding glass doors.

"We've got an overdose!" The EMT yelled to the night receptionist.

* * *

**(12:45 a.m**.)

The smooth rhythmic beat of the heart monitoring machine cut through the intense silence like a knife through butter. Helga lay in the bed, various IVs stuck in her arm. She'd been out for hours at that point; oblivious to the fact that she'd stopped breathing, or that doctors had managed to resuscitate her breathing just ours before. The blonde grunted lightly, beginning to stir from her dark slumber taking in a deep breath she had no idea how to be thankful for.

A few more minutes went before she started waking up completely. She started by cracking open her lids to take a peek at the world, examining, in disgust, the bright white fluorescent bulbs that burnt her eyes. She proceeded to pull her right hand to her eyes to give them a rub, but she was caught on something. It felt cold and hard against the flesh of her wrist. She groaned and rubbed her eyes with her left hand, which was free of the restraint and finally blinked a couple of times, clearing the ever clingy grogginess from her vision. She realized that she was in a nice white room, staged with stainless steel commodities, a sink, a bathroom, some furniture, and heart monitor—_what? _

It was at that moment she realized that she was in a hospital.

She wasn't sure how she'd gotten there much less why she was there, but she knew it had to be a mistake. It had too. However, a glance down at her right arm proved to be further puzzling to her bizarre situation, especially the part involving the shiny metal set of handcuffs that appeared to have her locked to the bed railing. She jerked her arm a few times against the metal restraints, testing them before dropping her limb to the bed. Why was she in handcuffs?

_Why the hell am I even-_

"Good you're awake"

Helga's deep blue eyes jumped from her arm to the sudden interruption standing in the door way. He was an officer dressed in conventional blue...and she knew him immediately.

"What am I doing here?" She laid her head back onto the pillow, her voice cracked, tired like.

"When I found you at the house, you weren't breathing," Gerald walked over to the side of the bed and sat down in the side chair. "On the way to the hospital your heart stopped."

Helga rolled her eyes, sighing as she lifted her free arm to her head and running her thin fingers through her blonde tresses.

"You're cuffed because you had possession of cocaine on you. That's a federal offense, and you were using," He continued, never once tearing his eyes away from her.

She, however, refused to look at him, instead choosing to stare straight ahead, "Fantastic," She muttered, contempt and anger written all over her.

Gerald shook his head and crossed his arms, "So this is what you're up to these days? A junky?"

"Fuck off Gerald," She spat back, finally turning and narrowing her eyes at him.

Gerald dropped his head in defeat, "Okay," He stood up, "Well, when you're well enough to go I'll be back for you," He walked to the room door. "Don't get too comfy."

"Yeah," Was all Helga had to say. He left without saying anything else and she was more than pleased to see him go.

She sighed, turning her head to the right and staring; thinking. She didn't want to go to jail, then again who did? She had a daughter to take care of. Bob and Miriam were going to be livid when they found out; they could have already have been informed for all she knew. She didn't really care about what they thought of her anymore, she blamed them for part of the way she was. She had become tired of their endless ranting of how she was throwing her life away. The majority of her brain screamed at her to leave her parents out, but the slight minority chimed in telling her that she _had_ to let them know. She hadn't any other choice.

She groaned at the idea, but silently knew she needed to. She needed to just get it over with. If for no other reason than because they had her child.

Helga finally gave in and dragged the bedside phone into her lap and dialed their number, stabbing each digit with such aggression that one would think that she might have a personal vendetta against the device.

The other end rang a few times before being answered by that gruff deep voice she'd come to hate.

"Hey Dad," She sighed into the phone, letting her displeasure be shown.

_"Where the hell are you at?" _

She'd expected _that._

"I'm in the hospital."

_"Well...what happened to you?"_ Bob inquired. Helga remained quite, not really wanting to answer the question, for she knew it would provoke a good yelling match between her and her father and that was the last thing she felt like engaging in.

_"Well that's all I need to know. You were doing something stupid to get there,"_ Bob continued, his voice saturated with irritation as he read her silence perfectly,_"When are you being discharged?"_

"When I get out of here I'm going straight to jail," Helga sighed dreadfully at saying the last part of her sentence. The yelling match would probably kick off now, even though she'd _tried _to avoid it.

Her father remained silent for a few seconds, surprising her to say the least, _"Jesus Christ Helga, when will this stop?"_ He asked in a demanding tone.

Helga rolled her eyes, "Bob, I didn't call you for a lec—"

_"When are you going to grow up?!"_

Helga refused to speak for a few seconds, refusing to get into a screaming fit with her father.

"Was Sender okay last night?" She changed the subject.

_"She was fine. Safe at least."_ He emphasized the word 'safe.'

A short sketch of silence drew over the conversation before Bob finally sighed,_"Helga, I'm glad you're going to jail,"_ His words were very concrete, very certain.

She had no right to be, but she found herself drawing back in sheer offense, "What the hell is that suppose to mean, Bob?" She hissed.

Bob let a sigh escape his mouth, _"I mean what I say. I'm glad you're going, because then maybe you'll wake up. Maybe it'll force you to get help!"_

His daughter scoffed, "You know, I don't even know why I called…"

_"I'm not going to help you. Not this time, Helga. I'm not dumb, I know why you called,"_ Bob countered, letting her know exactly where he stood, _"Sender's staying with us until you straighten out,"_

Helga's face crunched into a 'do-what?' expression at her father's suggestions. "Okay, so, now you're taking my daughter from me?"

_"Where else is she going to stay?"_ He asked. The both of them already knew the answer. _"Clean yourself up and act like you've got some sense and some responsibi-" _

"Ya know what Bob…just…screw you okay!?" With that she slammed the receiver back on its cradle.

She tossed the phone back over onto the bed side stand and laid there dwelling in her own thoughts. A load of anxiety was hovering ominously close over her. The massive feeling made her feel sick to her stomach, and she didn't know which was worse, wanting to puke or feeling like she couldn't get it up.

She needed some cocaine _so badly_ in that moment. That would make everything better. It would certainly make coping with this crappy situation more manageable.

_I've got to get out of this bed, out of this room..._

She turned and grabbed the remote hanging by the cord over the left bed rail, pressing the call button and waiting with child like inpatients for somebody to assist her needs. To her it seemed like an eternity that she waited, but in reality it was probably only a few minutes. A male nurse, wearing his light blue outfit shuffled in with a bright smile and cheery attitude to compliment it. He had brown curly hair and green eyes. If Helga hadn't been so consumed with the need for her fix, she probably would have found him decently attractive. She could have cared less though.

"What can I do for you ma'am?" He smiled at her.

"Yeah…" She tossed the remote back over the rail "…How long till I can get out of here?" She inquired.

"I'm not sure, but I can go grab the doctor over your care," He motioned with his thumb out the door behind him.

"Could you?" She asked, becoming very fidgety.

"Yeah sure, It'll only take a minute," The nurse smiled again before exiting the room.

Helga sat there, doodling her thumbs for what seemed like another batch of eternity, watching the door, waiting for the doctor to barge in. Finally the door did indeed swing open, and in walking a gray haired man caring a chart with him.

"Good afternoon!" His voice rang out, irritating her _beyond _belief.

Suppressing an eye roll, she asked: "Am I good to go yet?"

The doctor paused for a moment, re-examining the chart before finally smirking, "Well, I'd say so, we have no other reason to keep you here. Your vitals are good and you seem to be feeling fine," He walked over to her, giving her the once over before carefully removing her IV needles and heart monitor wire.

"I'll go alert your officer of your check out."

"Fantastic…" She muttered, as he left the room.

Shortly after, Gerald emerged through the door way crossing his arms as he did. Helga gave him an 'oh-great' look.

"You were ready to go quicker than I thought," He raised his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes, saying nothing as she held up her cuffed arm to the extent of the chain, impatiently gesturing for him to undo them.

She felt like she was going to crawl out of her skin, she was so eaten up with anxiety. It wasn't just something she felt, it it must have been noticeable to others as well.

"Nervous?" Gerald gazed at her jittering hand as he unlocked the restraints.

"Anxious."

"Well, your clothes are in the chair over there, I'll walk out so you can dress," He nodded and walked to the door, shutting it behind him.

As soon as the door shut, she hustled out of bed to the chair for her clothes. She rooted through her jean pockets for her important items, hoping they'd some how over looked her _something._

Nothing.

Not even dryer lent.

_Dammit!_

She gave up the search and put her clothes on with visible defeat. They smelt like stale cigarettes, which made that sick feeling even more prevalent. Yes, she smoked, but she _hated_ smelling like smoke! It was _the only thing_ she hated about parties. But a smoke would _defiantly_ help take the edge off a bit, but they weren't in her pockets either. What a joke!

She heard a tap at the door which made her turn towards it.

"Come in," Gerald stepped in and silently approved of her being dressed.

"Ready to go?" He motioned to the door.

Helga looked at the door and slowly nodded; standing up "Yeah," She walked over to the officer to be escorted out.

* * *

**A/N:** Chapter 2 down! So far she doesn't seem to think anything is wrong with her. So what do you guys think? Sorry if it was boring, this story isn't going to be fast paced or anything.


	3. Need Some Air

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**Need Some Air**

"Wrong place, wrong time,

You're falling down,

Wrong place, wrong time,,

I should have known,

You're leaving now,

You're fading out." -Lowline (Disko Killer)

* * *

Helga sat rather uncomfortably in the back of the old police squad car that scooted down the moderately busy streets of the city. She stared blankly out the window, squirming against the worn vintage fabric of the back seat, nothing particularly constructive perusing through her mind as she window gazed. Mostly she thought mostly about how she could weasel her way out of this _impossible_ predicament she'd found herself in. That day _should _have been a wake up call for her. She _should _have been focusing her mind power on acceptance of her situation and ways to become a better person.

She thought of neither, though, only schemes to talk her way out of this mess. Ha! Wishful thinking. Her anxiety hadn't leveled itself out since her quick exit at the hospital. Not even the cool fresh air had eased the nervous and somewhat paranoid feelings she had. She felt her heart beat beginning to rise, as her brain got carried away with the thought of jail. Her heart's rapid beats caused her breaths to become more shallow and quick.

Helga realized what was happening and she shut her eyes, exhaling slowly. She then slowly inhaled a lung full of air, exhaling it slowly, regulating her heart. It worked on calming her, if only a little. Her eyes slowly trailed up to the rear view mirror of the squad car. Even through the cage bars, she could see Gerald's face, concentrating solely on the road.

It bugged her.

She was profoundly shocked that he hadn't spoken a _word_ to her since the car ride had begun. No questions, no mocks, no jabs, no _nothing_. It put it mildly, it drove her nuts, that he hadn't made a smart remark that she could counter into an arguing match to pass time.

A smirk spread across her face as she pulled her legs up onto the seat.

"Do you get a kick out of this?" She asked. Gerald's eyes instinctively darted to the rear view, peering at her through the bars.

"Do I get a kick out of what?" His eyes squinted a little, confused by the meaning of her seemingly absurd question.

A tiny chuckle fluttered past her lips as they parted ways for an amused smile. "Oh _come on_, we've never _exactly_ gotten along now have we?" She chortled again and leaned forward, "Now I'm here and you're there. Karma-tic justice, eh Johanssen?"

Gerald paused for a second, relaying her idea around his head. "I'm not shallow, Helga," He finally replied, his voice echoed a sliver of offense.

Helga rolled her eyes, leaning back against the seat. "Sure," She murmured just barely loud enough to hear, hopefully egging him on a little.

"I'm only doing my job."

She perked an eye brow at his remark, becoming curious enough to temporarily abandon her quest to pick an argument, if only to pry a few other questions out of him. She leaned forward again, a smart-ass smile once again planted on her face. "How did you end up a cop? Last time I saw you, you were an engineering major."

Gerald's eyes shifted towards the rear view again, making contact with hers. The corners of his mouth tugged upwards into weak smile. "Arnold," He said sincerely.

"How noble of you." She suddenly wished that she had never asked.

He shrugged off her comment, "What are _you _doing these days?" In the back of his mind, he knew she would take it as a low blow, and part of him secretly desired her to do so.

And she did. Bait, hook and sinker.

"...I do fine," She spat back with bitterness, her reflection throwing him a glare.

"Okay," He shrugged, nodding his head.

She huffed and turned, starring out the window again. "So how long will I have to stay in the freakin' clink?"

"Depends I guess, if you make bail then maybe only a day, if not, maybe a week before a trial..."

Helga rolled her eyes, "No _really?_" She feigned surprise, highlighting the fact that she was the queen of sarcasm, "I mean in jail. As in a _conviction_. What am I looking at here?"

"Maybe 18 months...maybe 2 years. It just depends...Cocaine possession _can_ be a stiff offense, and we found a decent contained amount in your pocket," He silently fought the battle not to snap back at her for her rudeness and arrogance. It was her nature, he knew, but it still grated his nervous.

She let out a nervous breath, shuffling in her seat for the next comfortable spot. Gerald observed her uneasiness via the rear view mirror, watching her squirm like she could just wiggle out of her skin. He'd seen it many times in his field of work.

"It's the blow, you know, making you feel like that."

"Yes, thank you, _Dr. Phil_, I put the dots together awhile ago," She said a rudely as possible, running her hands through her hair several times.

"So why do you do it then?"

She never answered him, and even if she wanted to, they had already pulled into his stationed precinct within the city. It seemed like that agonizing ride had lasted for hours, and she was just relieved to be at the end of the ride. She desperately wanted to escape Gerald's company. He made her nervous and uncomfortable. She didn't know why, but she'd take a guess it was probably because they knew each other, and very well at that. She would have much preferred to be under the supervision of a stranger, somebody who couldn't judge her because they didn't know her, somebody who wouldn't carry their chin high around her as if to say '_take that_.'

Helga was jolted from her thoughts as the back seat door she was leaning on, gave way as it opened. She caught herself with her hand and glared at Gerald, standing there with his hand gripping the window frame. She tossed her feet out the door and ducked, catching the chilly breeze as she stood up and out of the squad car.

Gerald shut the car door with a simple push of his hand and turned, walking behind Helga into the station. She pulled the glass door open and walked into the much warmer building. Her chaperone instructed her to take a seat in one of the several gold yellow plastic chairs lining the lobby like area. They reminded her of the lunch chairs in high school. He walked to a chubby balding man at a desk stacked with papers and exchanged a brief conversation, occasionally nodding over to Helga's direction. She wondered what they were talking about, but figured she'd probably find out sooner than later.

Gerald looked back at her and motioned her to follow him with a quick twist of his hand. She stood up and trudged behind him further back into the station till they reached a separate part, specifically for mugs and finger printing. He opened the door and showed her into the white room, she'd guess the cleanest part of this place. Inside stood a young blonde haired man, rooting through several files on a fold up table.

"Are you busy?" Gerald asked him.

The lanky man looked up from what he was doing, shrugging as he did, "Umm…what do you need?" He straightened.

"I need this one finger printed and her pictures taken."

The man looked at her, and shrugged again, "Yeah sure, I'll do it, it won't take long."

Gerald smiled, and thanked him before pushing his captive towards him. He stared at her, mostly at her hands noticing her lack of restraints.

"Why doesn't she have handcuffs on?" The man asked concernedly.

Gerald stopped and looked back in, "She's not going anywhere," He assured.

The blonde man raised his eyebrows and sighed motioning her over to the table. "Well, okay I need you to hold out your hands…"

* * *

In the mean time Gerald walked back up front to the balding chubby man. The chubby fellow was just returning to his desk with a thick file, right as Gerald approached it.

"Oh great, you found it," He greeted the man, out stretching his hands for the parcel he carried. The heavy set guy parted his lips for a toothy grin as he handed over his item to the awaiting set of hands.

"It's a thick one," He reseated himself.

Gerald walked over by the desk and sat in one of the yellow gold plastic chairs adoring the front of the lobby area. He opened up the manila folder, first seeing the basic information and first mug shot of the individual. She wore a cocky grin and her eyes were as troubled as any hardened felon he'd crossed paths with. She hadn't changed much since. She was 17 when this shot was taken, almost nine years prior to the present.

He thumbed through a few pages of the folder, inspecting the damage she'd bestowed on the world, not to mention herself. She'd manage to rack up the miles of mischief, earning herself the charges of public indecency, two DUI's, a drug bust, fights, and public drunkenness, and that was just the first layer of her file. He found it peculiar that she hadn't served any real significant jail time for her mayhem.

He made a mental note to check into this.

He could have sat there awhile longer and flipped through the folders contents, but chose not to due to time constrictions and snapped it closed. He walked to the back part of the precinct, folder in tow and entered the same white room; right after Helga had finished her last head shot.

"Well…she's all done," The lanky man greeted him, handing him a thin folder of white parchment.

Helga sat in one of the room's chairs, staring at the floor. She twiddled her thumbs like it was a nervous habit in need of attention. Gerald motioned for her to accompany him leaving the room. She cocked an eyebrow at his gesture before standing up.

"Coming Geraldo," She mocked him. The muscles in his jaw tightened when he heard her little quirk. It had definitely been awhile.

Like before, it was taking a lot of will power not snap back at her. He said nothing back as he escorted her down to the holding cells. To her surprise there were no raggedy looking hobos or shady looking individuals she had to share a cell with, she was alone in the holding unit.

She walked into it, feeling like an animal and mildly claustrophobic as she stared around the small square with nothing but a worn bench to sit upon. She had always hated these holding units, and she especially did not like it this time. Not at all. She winced hearing the metal bared door click shut behind her with some applied force. She turned around, once again staring at Gerald through a set of bars, much like the ride there.

He shifted on his feet, staring at her, "I've got to go do some things. I'll be back in about an hour or so. If you need to make a phone call to…whoever you can do it then."

He knew he should have let her do it before he put her in, but he was aggravated with her, and needed to step away for awhile, he needed a breather.

She snorted at his remark, "No need, I've already done my calling." She walked over and flopped down on the dirty bench. "Don't worry _Bruce Wayne_, I won't be 'terrorizing' the streets tonight," She curled her fingers into a quotation motion, grinning sarcastically.

Gerald rolled his eyes and sighed as he turned to walk away.

"Can I have a cigarette!?" Helga called after him quickly, seeing he was leaving.

"No!" He shouted back, never turning around as he made his angry exit.

She sighed in disgust, resenting his response. She was nic-fitting like nothing she'd ever felt before. Not to mention all the other things she craved for at the moment. If she didn't get something soon she felt her head just might just explode. Or worse, she might just lose her mind.

Her mind was busy processing heaps of thoughts, ideas, and wants, everything that crossed her mind. She couldn't stop what she was thinking, what her body was forcing her mind to focus on. The most pathetic thing about it was the one thing she should have been focusing on, the one thing that should have been top priority in her thoughts, was the last thing on her mind. It was Sender.

She never saw it though.

* * *

**A/N:** Chapter 3 down. I wasn't particularly pleased with this chapter, that's why my updating was a little slow. I dreaded writing this thing, and I just couldn't get it to turn out like I wanted it to. It was just one of those sluggish chapters that HAS to be in there to get to more important interesting chapters. Anyway, there you have it, Helga acting like Helga being an insult throwing jerk and Gerald taking it, being the bigger person. She's still not acting like anything she's doing is wrong and her priorities are majorly wrong. Well please Read and Review, it's the key to motivation. Lol. Thank you to all my reviewers so far! And please don't let this chapter discourage you!


	4. Restless Sinner

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**Restless Sinner**

"These 4 walls,

Are blistering,

I watch the paint peel,

But I cannot wake from this dream." -Black Light Burns (4 Walls)

* * *

Much to Helga's surprise, the judicial system proved to be a formidable opponent, and her ability to talk her way out of any situation, as equally fruitless. The 26 year old had never faced a _real_ trial, and she was admittedly, a bit scared about it. She'd been held less than three days in her 'cage' as she referred to her cell, before she was sent to be appointed her punishment.

_Lovely..._

There she stood, awaiting her fate in a cold hard courtroom. She looked less than presentable, with her hair pulled up in a messy pony tail, the deep purple circles under her eyes from a new batch of insomnia, and of course the _God awful_ attire that Bob had been _so kind_ to drop off to her.

For lack of a better term, she was a hot mess.

Or cold, rather, as she shivered at the frigid air that circulated the room. The loud bang of a wooden mallet against a dense block jerked her from her day dreaming spell, leaving her more than bewildered at what as going on when she looked up. She quickly turned to her court appointed lawyer, as Bob had refused to hire her one.

Her lips parted into a 'what' expression, and before she even asked, he cut her off, "12 months of rehab," He pulled his leather briefcase up and onto the table.

"_Rehab?_" She repeated. That couldn't be right.

Her lawyer opened his briefcase, shoved in a few papers inside and closed it.

"To be quite honest, Ms. Pataki, you _should_ be going to jail, it amazes me that you're not. Be thankful."

She scowled, "When do I go?"

"Now, you're to be escorted over there _now_."

"Ms. Pataki," A heavy voice boomed behind Helga. She swirled around with a questioned expression on her face. An officer stood there, one arm on his holstered gun, the other dangling by his side. He reached out and grabbed her arm and pulled her around in front of him to escort her out of the court room.

* * *

Helga walked slowly into the lobby of the inner city rehab center, in which she'd be spending the next 12 months of her life. An officer stood behind her until an employee could escort her to her room. Helga looked around the white tiled stainless steel building. It reminded her of a 'looney' bin. She scowled, glancing around at the occupants moseying around the area.

A giant white mass smothered her vision. Helga stepped back and stared at a jolly looking woman walking towards her, carrying a clipboard. The jovial woman smiled at her and her outward happiness made Helga cringe inside.

"You must be Ms. Pataki," The woman spoke out in a merry voice.

Helga shuttered,"Yeah,"

"I'll take her from here," She smiled warmly at the officer, "Now, if you will follow me I will show you to your room." The woman began to walk away and Helga had no choice but to follow along. They walked up a flight of stainless steel railed stairs to the second floor and down a hallway to her prescribed room.

Once inside, Helga stared around the space, crinkling her face in disapproval. The woman just smiled.

"You have a roommate already here. Dinner is at 8, but we expect you down at 5 for your first group meeting," She popped her head, as if to say, 'got that?'

Helga nodded, "Yeah, yeah, sure 5, got it," She waved off the woman as she flopped on the hard bed. The woman walked out of the door, shutting it behind her. She sighed and stared at the ceiling, her eyes becoming heavy and soon she drifted off.

The door clicked open, and in walked a girl, about Helga's age, carrying a box. Helga jolted awake, staring around frantically, whipping her eyes with her hands and staring at the stranger.

"So, you must be the newbie," The girl smirked at her. "Helga? Is it?"

Helga nodded.

"This box was sitting outside the door with your name on it," The girl plopped the box down on Helga's bed.

"Thanks."

"I'm Jessica, by the way," The girl sat down on the edge of her own bed. Helga opened up the box and found some clothes, bathing items, and the like. She also found a white envelop of cash, which she'd been stripped of when she was jailed. She removed the money from the envelope and stuck in her pocket before grabbing the box and sitting it beside her bed.

"So, what did you do to get sent here?" Jessica asked.

Helga shrugged, "Just being myself I guess."

Jessica laughed, "Catch 22," She stood up and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Helga looked over, noticing a phone on her bedside table. She scooted back to the bed headboard, propping her back against it and hauled the bulky contraption into her lap giving its spinner nine whirls before listening to the rings murmur.

Bob picked up with a heavy 'hello.' that signified that he only picked up because he felt that he _had_ to.

"Hey Dad," She grumbled. "Thanks for my stuff."

_"I'll bring you some more of your clothes later in the week, that should do you for now."_ Bob replied.

"Okay..." Helga sighed, "Have you and Mom talked to Sender yet?"

_"No, we haven't. We had planned to sit down and have a talk with her tonight."_

"Don't...um...I'll tell her. I need to talk to her, I haven't seen her in days..."

Bob agreed and the receiver went quiet for a few seconds as he retrieved the young girl. A few minutes later, the elated voice of a girl barely 6 pierced through Helga's end.

_"Hey mama!"_

Helga smiled, "Hey sweetheart, how are you?"

_"I'm good! Grandma and grandpa told me that you went on a trip. Are you coming back?"_

Helga's heart fractured at the sound of Senders innocents to the situation at hand. She sat there in a beat of silence, struggling to find the words to explain everything, "Sender, I'm not going to be coming home for a while."

_"Why?"_

"Well...I'm sick sweetheart. I've got to get better...before we can go home," Helga bit her lip. Sick was the best thing she could come up with and it wasn't that far off the mark though. Surprisingly.

_"Are you real sick?"_ Sender asked.

"Yeah sweetie, mommy's real sick."

_"Will you get better?"_

Would she? Probably not. But she'd fake it to make it all the way.

"Yeah, baby...I will. You just have to be good for grandma and grandpa while I'm gone okay?" Helga ran a hand through her hair.

"_Okay."_

"I miss you, and I love you."

_"I love you too."_

* * *

Five O'clock had rolled around and Helga found herself sitting within a circle of sick people spilling their inner most demons, and desires and thoughts, and it was nothing but a bunch of bull. At least to _her_ it was. As she sat in her chair, with her legs pulled up under her, her hands trembling, something they had started doing four days ago and hadn't stopped, she stared at the floor, solidely refusing to be apart of the group.

She hated the world more than ever.

"Helga?" A voice broke her stare. She looked up bewildered. "We're yet to know anything about you, how about you share next?" The councilor sitting across the circle from her suggested.

She pulled her legs out from under her and sat back in the chair.

"I don't think so," She shook her head.

"Well, at least say something."

She rolled her eyes and stood up, "Listen _bucko_, I'm not going to be conned into playing this cute little game with _you people_. You think talking about something fixes it? You must think I'm stupid!" Her heart started pounding dangerously fast.

An anxiety attack.

She grabbed her chest with a shaky hand, closing her eyes and beginning to breath in deeply. Finally getting a grip of herself she headed for the exit.

"Admittance is the first step to acceptance, you can fight your demons," The councilor called after her.

Helga's eyes narrowed and she whipped around and glared at the man.

"You don't know anything about the demons I live with," She replied, her voice cracking, but controlled and precise. She breathed in again, glaring around the rest of the group of people before turning and storming out of the room.

Helga Pataki was _not _about to be labeled a 'Sick rehaber,' she was not about to have somebody tell her what _she_ was _dealing with_. In the midst of her thoughts, she stomped up the stairs to her room, slammed the door behind her, marched into the bathroom, slammed that door too and turned on the faucet.

She stared into the mirror at her own reflection, breathing very hard. She glanced down and splashed water over her face. It was bitterly cold, but it felt good and it slowly calmed her down, splashing a few more handfuls over her face.

She turned off the faucet, dried her face and walked back into the room, glancing around the room as she paced. She couldn't stand it. She felt like she couldn't sit still, she couldn't focus on anything.

Finally, she let out a loud sigh of distress.

"I can't do this!" She yelled to know one as she ran her hands through her hair.

_I've got to get out of here..._

She walked over to the edge of her bed and grabbed the box of her things, tossing it up onto the bed. She rooted through it, pulling out a jacket and pulled it over the fleece she already wore. She peeked out into the hallway, looking both ways down the hall before exiting the room. She walked to the stairs and looked over the railing into the lobby.

The coast was clear.

At that, she hurriedly bounded down the stairs quietly and skipped across the lobby area to the front entrance where she slipped out the glass doors and into the dark cold night. She zipped up her jacket to keep out the bone chill, stuck her hands in her jacket pockets and walked down the concrete steps onto the road.

The place was guarded by a cast iron fence and a patrolled gate. She chuckled at their feeble attempts and discouraging people from escaping. She faced worse obstacles to escape from in her life of mischief. She crept down to a secluded spot of the fence and hosted herself up on to the brick foundation that the cast irons was grounded in. Grabbing the top horizontal bar, she hosted herself up with a quick jump from her feet and slung a leg over in between the iron spikes spaced just far enough apart to sit her body. She shifted her weight over and slung her remaining leg over and jumped to the ground.

She was home free.

_That was way too easy._

Helga walked out into the street shoving her hands back into her jacket pocket. She just had one stop to make.

* * *

**A/N:** Chapter 4. Hooray! She pretty much can't do anything right, but then again she's not make THAT much of an effort to. Anyway, hope you guys liked the chapter, please R&R.


	5. Cold Wind: Ain't No Easy Way

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**Cold Wind: Ain't No Easy Way**

"And yes I'm all lit up again,

On the couch, in my bed,

And yes I'm all, lit up again, flying,

I love the cocaine, I love the cocaine,

Mama can you wait, mama can you wait." -Buckcherry (Lit Up)

* * *

Helga made her way down the side walk through town, the city eerily quiet that night. It wasn't terribly late, but it was terribly cold. Perhaps everybody had chosen to stay inside? Worked for her. The September night air made her hug her jacket as tightly as she possibly could to her body, and that still wasn't enough. She was in route to a specific spot in the city.

She'd been walking for about 30 minutes. Her mind would briefly wandering to the rehab center, and if they'd discovered her escape yet. Either way, she couldn't care less. Her mind was focused on one thing and one thing only.

A quick fix.

She turned the corner at an avenue and continued walking down that street, anticipation growing as she neared her destination. Elation fully sat in when she finally she came upon a familiar alley and cut a left into its dirty and dark corridor, glancing up at a dim light glowing out of a second floor window and thanking God for it.

She hosted herself up the icy cold fire escape rails and crawled onto the platform in front of the window, peeking through the window into a dated apartment. There was a figure, sitting in a recliner watching a rabbit eared TV. _Her life line_. She tapped on the window with her knuckle and the guy jerked up and looked back to the window at her before hurrying to her.

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!" The guy exclaimed as he hosted the window up and let her in.

"How many times have I knocked on your window Sid?" Helga reasoned and shoved the pane closed and shivered into the apartments warmth.

She stepped back and took a look at her old friend. He was a rough looking young man with a scraggly looking Five O'clock shadow for facial hair and chronic bed hair that was always in disparate need of combing.

"Boy howdy. You look terrible girl," He smirked playfully, but Helga was un-amused.

Sid turned and walked back over his chair and sat down.

"Yeah, I feel like shit. I have _not_ had a good week," She trudged over and stood in front of him.

"How much for an 8-ball? $100 like usual? Or can you cut me a break?" She put her hands on her hips, staring down at him.

Sid smiled, "How's 85?"

Helga had already brought out the wad of cash she had on her and was thumbing through the bills, handing over the crumbled amount to Sid. "Thank you."

Sid took the money from her and shoved it in his pocket as he got up. "Don't make it a habit," He smiled before walking off down the hallway, only to emerge seconds later carrying a small baggy with a white ball in it.

Helga eyes flickered when he handed it to her and she stuck in her pocket hastily.

"Thanks," She flashed a quick grin before walking back to the window.

"Hey!" Sid called after her. She turned around and gave him a questioned look,"You don't want to _stick around?_" He smiled devilishly.

* * *

The table was scattered with bottles of booze and hard liquor of all different brands. A mirror cutting board and been brought out and was now lightly powdered with a fine white dust. Helga lay sprawled out on the floor, smiling like a kid in a candy store, eyes glazed over and her pupils dilated out wide. She'd stripped herself down to her T-shirt and underwear because she was about to bake out of her skin, she was so hot. However, things were good, according to her. She felt right for the first time in days.

She felt carefree.

A shirtless Sid crawled over to her on his knees, laughing like a hyena, stifling his laughter just long enough to slur, "How you feel?"

She turned her head towards him, her face void of any kind of logical thought.

"Mucho Exellento!" She burst into a fit of laughter.

He collapsed beside her, nuzzling up to her while he threw an arm over her body. Helga rolled over, leaning in and crashing her lips down on his, for a terribly messy kiss. She was drunk and high...so what?

When she pulled back to giggle at absolutely nothing, he began to leave a sloppy string of kisses down her neck, collar bone, chest, making her giggle harder, while she latched onto him. He ran his hand down her body, perusing her skin before reaching the waistband of her underwear and sliding them off. Pulling back, he sat up on his knees, picking her up with him and carefully making it to his feet, stumbling over the few short feet to the raggedy couch to toss her onto its patched cushions.

He was _so_ drunk, but he managed to balance himself long enough to get his pants and boxers off.

"Sid..." Helga's wanting voice pulled his eyes back. He immediately crawled onto the couch and up her body, clumsily pulling her shirt over her head. "Make...make me feel good," She begged, wrapping her legs around his waist, and kissed him fiercely.

What had started out as a rotten day was now ending on a grand note.

* * *

Helga awoke on the couch the next morning, feeling like she'd been hit by a train. Her vision was too blurry to really look around her environment properly but she could feel _something_ heavy on top of her, though she wasn't quite be sure of what. She pulled a very stiff arm up to rub her eyes attempting to remove the blur before looking down, finding herself stark naked with Sid laying halfway on her, passed out cold.

_Oh yeah, that's right._

Mustering all the strength she could she pushed his naked body off of hers and sat up, immediately discovering that sitting up was a _terrible_ idea because of the wave of nausea that hit her at her core. Swallowing hard, she stood up on shaky legs, hurriedly lumbering down the hall to the bathroom where she collapsed in front of the toilet and puked. She stayed there for some time, evacuating the contents of her stomach, till there was most certainly nothing left. And then even dry heaving a bit.

She heard the crack of a floorboard and cocked her head to see Sid leaning against the door jam, still completely naked. He wasn't chipper, he looked beat with heavy bags under his tired blood shot eyes. They stared at one another for a few seconds before he ran a hand threw his mop of hair. "You've got to get out of here, my girlfriend will be over anytime," His voice was raspy and tired.

Helga shrugged, attempting to hide her disdain, "What's new," She mumbled, barely audible enough for him to hear. It wasn't like it was a new situation for the two, far from it in fact. But that was _another story._ One she didn't feel like dwelling on. She just didn't like being told to scram so early in the...uh, morning? Afternoon? Who the hell knew! She needed a moment to wake up completely.

She stood up and walked to the sink, turning on the faucet and Sid watched her the entire time as she grabbed the tube of toothpaste of his on the counter and squeezed a bit on to her finger, thrusted it in her mouth in a desperate attempt to rid herself of the horrible taste before rinsing her mouth, rinsed her face and turned the faucet off.

She shoved past him and strutted off down the hallway, grabbing the bottle of vodka perched on the living room table's edge and taking several hefty swigs of its searing liquid.

"You're the only person I know who drinks more alcohol to get over a hangover," Sid chuckled as he walked back into the room behind her.

Helga shrugged and nodded, taking another big swig, face scrunching like a prune as the liquid burnt down the back of her throat.

"High tolerance I guess," She sat the bottle down and grabbed her bra off the floor, "The only thing my mother ever gave me," She slipped the garment on before plucking up her T-shirt and pulling it over her head, catching the lust flickering in Sid's eyes out of the corner of her own.

_Horn dog. _

"I hear you."

She yanked up her jeans and Sid finally strolled over to the couch and reclaimed his boxers. Fully dressed, Helga dropped to her knees in front of the coffee table and was scooting together what was left of her 8-ball on the mirror board with a razor and snorted up the small line quickly.

"So...me and some friends are going to be hanging out tonight, if you want to head back over later...or something," Sid said.

"Never enough of me hmm?"

Helga grabbed her fleece and flung it over her head, wiggling it down her body. Sid parted his lips for an amused smirk,"You'll be back. You always are."

Helga shot him a look before cracking a smile. She walked over to him, cupped his face between her palms, pulled him down to her and kissed him.

"Tell your girlfriend I said 'hey'," She chuckled and pulled away.

With that she turned on her heel and walked to the window, opening it and ducking onto the metal platform.

"See ya, Helga," Sid smiled and shut the window behind her.

She breathed in the cold air of the morning, or afternoon. Which ever. She climbed down the escape latter and jumped to the alley dirt below with a thud. She was dumbfounded as to what she was going to do at the moment.

She wasn't going back to rehab, she couldn't go home because she had no key, and she couldn't go to her parent's home because they'd truck her back to the 'looney bin.' She had no idea where any of her friends were either, nor did she have her phone to call them. A few more factors tossed in, and she'd be borderline homeless. She figured her best solution for her situation, would be to just walk to her side of town.

So that's what she did, she set out for her half of town.

* * *

Gerald emerged from a pair of restaurant doors, patting his stomach with both of his large hands, visually expressing how full he felt on the inside. A very short oriental woman walked out behind him giving him a playful push with her forearm. He turned and smiled to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"I'm about to bust," He remarked. Phoebe gave him a knowing look.

"You shouldn't have eaten so much."

"I couldn't help it. It was just _so _good."

The couple shared a laugh before turning and walking together down the sidewalk towards the parking area.

* * *

Helga had walked a good little ways, merely minutes from her street. She'd walked into a gas station to pick up a pack of cigarettes she been craving for _days_ now. She grabbed a lighter while she was there, paid the clerk and walked back outside, batting the box against her palm before her ecstatic fingers clumsily tore the plastic wrapping from the box and dug a white stick out. As she lit it, her eyes glanced up and wandered across the street.

She froze solid.

* * *

Across the street, Gerald and Phoebe walked leisurely down the sidewalk towards their parked vehicle. Gerald hugged her closer to him, turning his face to the side and kissing her on the top of the head. As he did, his eyes wandered innocently across the street.

He stopped abruptly. Helga stood across the street, rooted to the spot as she stared at him.

They both stood there, staring at one another in the eyes.

"What's she doing out?" Gerald said, barely audible to anybody. He knew where she should be, he made sure he knew where she ended up.

Phoebe's face bore confusion at Gerald's sudden abrupt halt. She looked up at him, her mouth parting for words.

"Whats wrong? Why did we stop?" She questioned.

Gerald's jaw tightened as he kept staring at Helga, waiting for her to act.

Helga kept her eyes glued to Gerald, she knew he realized she wasn't where she was suppose to be, she could tell by the way his eye bore through her. The smoke from her burning cigarette whispered around her like mist as a cold wind blew past her, stinging her eyes. She felt herself begin to back up, as if the wind was pushing her away.

"She's going to run," Gerald said aloud and darted around Phoebe.

* * *

Helga flicked her half burnt cigarette to the sidewalk as she whipped around and began sprinting away. God she hated running. She wasn't very athletic either. Gerald darted across the street as she began to pick up speed down the walkway. Her lungs burnt, clinging to every breath of air that she managed to suck in. He began gaining on her as they ran down the street, cutting in and out of people mingling about their own business.

Helga cut a hard left around the street corner, nearly losing her feet out from under her as she did and nearly clobbering some poor woman as she righted herself, forcing her tiring muscles to push harder. Gerald snaked around the corner seconds later like a gust of wind dancing his way around the same women with clinched teeth.

As they both ran down the side walk, only feet apart, Helga hung another left into a back alley, knocking over several dinky trash tins. Gerald swung into the tight corridor, leaping over the fallen cans. Helga trotted down the dirt path, towards the other end breathing heavily as her body craved more oxygen than she could provide.

"Freeze or I will shoot!"

She stopped short of the alley exit, staring at the street before her before slowly turning her head around, peeking over her shoulder at her pursuer.

Gerald approached her slowly, in combat position. His arms fully extended away from his body, gun at aim. Helga took a deep breath and slowly raised her arms up and dropped her head to her chest, taking a deep breath.

Next thing she new, her face was hitting the dirt.

Gerald perched he knee on her back, pinning her to the ground. He yanked her arms up behind her back, pinning them beneath his leg.

"What in God's name is the matter with you?" His voice thundered above her.

She turned her head, dirt chunks sticking to her face and spitting to remove the granules from her lips.

"What the hell is the matter with _you_?!"

He grabbed her head with his hand and pulled her eye lids open with his thumb and stared at her pupils. Helga squirmed and jerked her head loose, scowling angrily at him.

"Bloodshot and dilated," He stated aloud, "Do you have anything on you?" He glared at her.

"No..." Helga groaned beneath him.

"Are you going to corporate with me?"

She refused to answer him.

"Are you going to corporate with me?" He repeated more loudly, pushing his knee into her back.

"Yes! Crimeny...just get _off of me_!"

* * *

The walk to the parking lot was long, excruciating and rather embarrassing to be apart of. If you were Helga, of course. Gerald had marched her, hands held behind her back, all the way there and under the curious gazes of street patrons. Phoebe had been pacing around her sedan for the last 20 minutes awaiting for the return of Gerald after his sudden and hasty departure. Her brow perked when she saw him slink into view, but immediately knitted into confusion when she saw him escorting a woman in front of him. She tucked her purse under her arm and skipped across the parking lot towards him.

"Gerald!" She called, stopping short when she recognized her boyfriend's captive. Lord knows, it had been awhile, but she still recognized Helga.

Her lips parted, but words never came.

Helga sighed, "Hey Pheebs..."

"Gerald, what's going on?" Phoebe looked from Helga to Gerald, then back to Helga.

He ignored the question, "Phoebe, can you go open up the back door for me? Please?"

"Yes, but what is going on?" She began walking with them to the car. When she got no reply she skipped ahead and opened the back door and Gerald ducked Helga into the car.

He turned back to Phoebe, rubbing his head with his hand. "She's suppose to be in rehab," He explained.

Phoebe stole a glance at her former friend, before looking back at him, still very confused.

"I know," He said to her, as if reading her mind, "But it shouldn't be that much of a surprise."

* * *

For the second time in two days, Helga was on her way to rehab. She would admit though, the ride there this time around was much more comfortable than the previous. The awkwardness had been laid on extra thick this time around. Though. Guess you can't win them all. Not only was she in the presences of a man she'd never been e_xtremely fond of_, but also the woman who used to be _her_ best friend. Nobody had anything to say to each other.

Not a thing.

But who would actually even say anything if there was anyway?

Helga was content to just stare out of the window for most of the ride. That was fine with her. Every now and then, she'd catch Phoebe staring at her from the corner of her eye and it caused her mind to briefly wander to her and Phoebe's friendship, _or lack there of._ She tried to recall the last time she'd spoken to her.

_It was after...'you know what.' _

She immediately trashed the thought, bitterly casting it out of her mind like a demon being kicked out of hell. She wasn't about to _go there._

Helga's ears perked up hearing Gerald have a conversation with an unknown person on his cell phone. It was about her, of course, and about somebody meeting him at the rehab center. She sat back in her seat, she'd find out soon enough.

* * *

She walked back into the ever familiar lobby of the rehab center, Gerald as an escort for her. Phoebe followed behind them, a few feet away. An officer in uniform already waited in the lobby for their arrival. With him, stood the heavy set woman she met before, only this time, instead of being jolly, she bore a look of disappointment, and there beside her stood a medium build of a man she'd never seen before.

The unknown man approached Helga and Gerald with a very stern posture and extended his hand to Gerald.

"David Steepleman," He shook Gerald's hand, "Thank you for returning my client," Steepleman stared sharply at Helga.

"Officer Bailey has informed me that you have plans of some sort?" Steepleman asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Gerald straightened, "Yes sir," He nodded, "I have dealt with her before, and seeing as I believe she will probably try this again, I think it would be best to put her in ankle cuffs."

"I'm sorry, put me in what?" Helga sputtered.

Steepleman chuckled, looking down at Helga, "Ms. Pataki, If you do not corporate with us here, your only other choice is jail.

"Believe me, that wont phase her," Gerald insured.

Helga scoffed, staring at him in disbelief, "Are you kidding me? I will _die_ in jail."

"I still think it'd be best to restrain her with the cuffs," Gerald ignored her, looking at Steepleman again, "It'll prevent her from doing anything..._stupid,_" He said the last word with a certain amount of bite.

Steepleman nodded, "That will be best. I want my client to succeed here."

Gerald nodded back, dragging the blonde headed terror across the lobby towards Officer Bailey. The heavy set women stared at her with the same disappointed look she'd had on her face, since Helga's arrival.

Helga just rolled her eyes, "Oh go garden or something!" She barked at he woman, nastily.

* * *

Helga waddled around her room, looking down at the chain prohibiting her legs from anything other than basic short stride walking. She looked ridiculous with this thing on her, and she was even more embarrassed by the contraption.

It was now 4:35pm. It had been hours since they'd made her an honorary member of the 'chain gang,' hours since they'd left, and hours she'd been waddling around in disbelief of her cuffed ankles.

Her roommate had gotten an overly acceptable amount of laughter out of new ankle bracelets before Helga threatened to shut her up with her fist. She wasn't sure if the girl took the warning seriously, but she left none-the-less. It was approaching 5:00pm and Helga dreaded going to her mandatory meeting. How much of a load of crap was that? _Seriously! _There were no extenuating circumstances for her, no 'take a breather and start tomorrow,' they cracked an iron whip there.

She sighed and clinked to the room door and out into the hallway, feeling like a real idiot as she went down the stairs, one by one by one. Curses rang the entire way down, as she nearly tripped and fell to her doom more than a couple of times.

She shuffled into the room where her meeting was held and felt the heat of eyes boring into her from the occupants. As she walked to an empty chair she heard a faint snicker over the metallic jingle of her chain.

"I will knock somebody's lights out if I hear anybody say anything," She glared around the circle.

Apparently, nobody felt like taking a nap, because nobody said a word. The councilor waltzed in a short time later and began the meeting. The meeting was just like it was last time she was in it, people spilling their guts to strangers about nothing. Yada, yada yada...

And, as she had dreaded the most, her turn had come. Naturally everybody in the room was _overly_ curious about their mysterious member, which had escaped. She was sure she was some kind of legend or something.

"Okay Helga, the floor is yours...we're yet to hear anything about you," The councilor said.

She merely slouched back in the uncomfortable chair, "What if I don't want to say anything?" She challenged him.

"Well, I allow one session of non-participation, but after that I'll have to report you to Steepleman as non-participation," He kindly warned.

Helga sighed, sitting up and rocking forward, elbows on knees, "Fine, what do you want to know?"

"How about a little about yourself on a first try?"

She stared at the floor, thinking. "Okay, my name is Helga Pataki, I'm 26...I drink _a lot_, I use cocain on a daily bases. I like ecstasy and will take almost any pill I can get my hands on if it will make me feel good," She paused for a moment,"I think about it all the time, and quite honestly, I like it that way..."

* * *

The broad shouldered chocolate man sat, stretched out across a comfy looking sofa, flipping through a thick manilla envelope. He clicked the pen top up and down in his hand, concentrating deeply on what he was reading. He tapped it against the folder in a rhythmic fashion, holding it rather loosely in between his large fingers.

He finally sighed, running his free hand over his shaved head, scratching it with his finger tips. The T.V. played softly in back ground, and his eyes would occasionally wonder over to whatever was on. He turned a page in the folder, his lips moving to form words as he read to himself.

"You always look so intense when you read," Phoebe's sweet voice commented.

Gerald looked up to see her leaning against the kitchen door frame, drying a large pot, that was unable to go in the dishwasher.

He grinned, "You're just now noticing?" He chuckled.

"No, I've just never told you," She replied and chuckled with him.

He heard light foot steps walk away, and a pot being set on the counter, before hearing foot steps again and the feel of Phoebe moving his feet to sit down at the end of the couch.

"What are you expecting to find in there?" She asked.

He shook his head, pulling his eyes from the folder to Phoebe. "Honestly, I don't even know. I'm just on a goose chase I guess."

Phoebe nodded, her attention turning to the program playing on the TV.

"It's sickening to see all of these crimes go unpunished," He gestured to the folder.

"That would be Bob Pataki's work"

Gerald cocked an eyebrow at his girlfriend.

She nodded, "Bob kept her out of trouble, to keep his business image respectable in the community."

"So you knew about all this?" Gerald prodded

Phoebe shook her head, "Only what she told me when we were teenagers. I really had no idea she was heavily into drugs until today. I haven't talked to her in _years_."

He nodded, agreeing with her words. He turned the page and began scanning through the items on the new page. Nothing impressed him so he flipped the page again. He continued this cycle, rapidly losing interest in the sickening repeativeness of outcomes. He flipped one last page before calling it quit when an interesting tidbit caught the glimmer of his eyes.

Phoebe turned away from the TV, hearing the page turning cease to a halt. She saw Gerald's features melt into his 'I've got something' face.

"What is it?" She questioned, scooting a little closer down to his end of the couch. His lips continued to flutter silent words, as he continued to read.

Gerald looked up to her quizzically. "Here read this," He held up the folder with both hands and gave it to Phoebe. She flopped it down in her lap and began skimming through the paper.

"Why did nobody ever look into _that_?" Gerald crossed his arms, watching Phoebe read.

"That is _very_ interesting, Gerald" She cocked her head up to meet he gaze.

* * *

**A/N:** Aye, chapter down. Not my most favorite, it took me forever to write the dang thing. Please don't review too harshly. But ya, anyway, I got a question about the story and its realisticness and to answer, this story is inspired by the life of a friend of mine, and things I watched her battle. And well, I guess it's kind of realistic to think Helga might would end up acting this way, with a childhood like she had. She's trapped back in rehab for now, but still stubborn as a mule. Anyway, please R&R and I really appreciate the people who have been reviewing. Thank you so much!


	6. Still Suspicion holds you Tight

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**Still Suspicion holds you Tight**

"While you wait for the others,

To make it all worthwhile,

All your useless pretensions,

Are weighing on my time,

You could beg for forgiveness,

As long as you like,

Or just wait out the evening,

You'll only leave me dry." -Grizzly Bear (While You Wait for the Others)

* * *

**One Week Later**

Helga gave the metal faucet a quick twist and the sprinkle of water dribbling to a stop from the shower head. She stepped out of the walk in, snatching a towel off the near by rack to wrap round her body, rubbing off the water droplets still clinging to her skin. She picked up her sweat pants, giving them a shake before sliding them on following it with a T-shirt, and a good shake out of her hair before walking out.

When she opened the door, she was immediately greeted by a male employee with her ankle chains. It seemed that would be the routine for the next 12 months, when she showered and changed clothes; she'd have to have her cuffs removed, and put back on and so forth.

_Fan-freakin-tastic._

"Yeah, yeah, I know…crimeny," Helga mumbled as she trudged over to the bed and sat down on the edge, lazily kicking out one leg. The guy seemed amused by Helga's behavior as he clicked the first cuff on her ankle and then repeated the action.

"Fantastic," She gave her legs a jiggle. "You can go now," She waved him off.

She watched him leave before pulling herself up on the bed to lean against the headboard. Glancing around the room, thoughts cruised through her skull about how to spend the rest of the night. Or the rest of 12 months.

She was feeling more confined than ever before, and she loathed it!

The room door opened and in skipped her roommate, humming louder than a bird on a warm Sunday morning. The girl pushed the door shut with her foot before running and belly flopping on her bed.

"What are you so happy about?" Helga asked.

Jessica's face brightened and she heaved her body into a sitting position.

"I have four months till I'm released. My counselor reminded me of that tonight."

Helga chuckled, "What are you on anyway? Sugar...splenda or something?" She mocked.

Jessica seemed not to notice her roommates attempt to ridicule her behavior, instead, laughing as if it were a friendly joke.

"No," She shook her head.

Helga shrugged to her, throwing her legs over the bed, and picking up a new box of stuff that had arrived. Jessica watched her curiously, remaining silent as she watched the blonde slid the box onto the bed and begin pulling random items out of it, tossing them onto the bed spread.

"So, why did you try to escape?"

Helga stopped, perking her head to stare at the girl and her meddlesome question. She wanted to snap at her, she really did, but something about her face told Helga that she, honest to God, meant _no harm._

She quickly dropped her gaze back down to the box, staring at its items. Clearing her throat, she began rummaging through its contents once again.

"Who wouldn't?" Helga vaguely said.

Jessica cocked her head in a confused manner, "A lot of people. This place is here to help you, you know."

Tossing a stack of photos onto the bed that she was clutching, Helga snapped her attention back to the girl, her patience wearing paper thin.

"I didn't need help, I was perfectly fine," She glared at Jessica, her voice slicing like a knife. Her eyes immediately drifted around the room and back to the box. "This place is like a prison."

Jessica shook her head in disbelief, "Not if you use your time for good…" She trailed off and craned her head over, attempting to catch a glimpse at the photos, that were newly strewn on her roommates bed.

"Is that your family?" She inquired.

Helga's eyes darted away from her miscellaneous box adventures, once again caught off guard by this girl's sporadic choice of questions. Her eyes wandered over the photos attempting to figure out exactly which one she was observing.

"Some of them" Her voice leaked an air of annoyance and she began shuffling them back into an orderly pile. She wasn't entirely sure why in the hell they were in the box to begin with, but if she had to guess, they were probably already in there and bob just threw stuff in over them. Regardless, they were going _back_ into _said box _to prevent prying eyes from becoming _more nosy_.

"Oh, he's cute!" Jessica remarked, picking up a single picture that had been left behind. Her eyes twinkled at the picture of a blonde haired boy around the age of 18. He sat on a floor, boards, screws and pages of instructions between his legs, smiling up at the camera.

Helga plucked the picture from her grasp, rather bitterly and Jessica drew back, a tad bit intimidated by her roommate's sudden hostile reaction. Helga gave the picture a cold stare before dropping it into the box and throwing it the floor.

"Sorry…" Jessica muttered, scooting back onto her bed.

"It's fine."

And Jessica left it at _that._

* * *

Gerald walked, hand upon chin between rows of brown boxes tagged with names and dates. Hundreds and hundreds of boxes lined these enormous metal shelves and he was quite alone with them. He reached his desired letter, and then finally his desired name. It was rather small brown box, considerably lacking compared to some of the other boxes around it. He slid the dusty container off of the metal shelve and lifted its top, sifting through the sparse envelops, papers and Ziploc bags before finding the item that held his interest the most.

A gun.

He picked it up carefully, clutching its black handle in his hand. Satisfied that, this indeed was what he was looking for, he marched towards the middle of the room to a table. A folder was laid out on the table and he re-seated himself, continuing to examine the weapon. His eyes gazed over the words and immediately to…

A serial number.

He quickly began disassembling the dud weapon, keeping his eyes peeled for the number. He held his breath, hoping this could be the link he needed, and desperately wanted. He sighed in defeat, his eyes flashing upon a worn patch of indistinguishable numbers and letters.

The number had been filed away.

He dropped his arms to the table, physically expressing his feeling of defeat.

_It's the same _The thought buzzed in his head like a siren, _I know it is. _

He picked the gun up again, closely examining every crevice on the device for any morsel of information his could possibly get his eyes on. His eyes leaped to the trigger, noticing the letters 'BBB' And his face scrunched, attempting to make since of the random marking. He knew that no gun of that model or brand had such a mark.

Then what was this?

Was it...a custom addition?

He vowed to found out.

* * *

Helga awoke, groggily to a force that was shaking her harshly. She looked around, taking in her surroundings before finally realizing where she was. She rubbed her dark eyes with her thumb, vigorously, to wipe away the burn.

"It's almost 5 O'clock, you don't want to be late for group!" Jessica's happy voice made Helga inwardly cringe. She wanted to slap the girl.

Instead, she sat up, feeling like she could _die_…or just...sleep forever.

"Why are you so damn perky all of the time?" Helga grumbled viciously. She at there and stared at the girl before turning away and putting her head in her hands, more content with listening to the blood pumping through her eardrums than to Jessica the 'mirth princess.'

Jessica grimaced at Helga's sloth like state, "You're going to sleep for a long time, you know. That's part of the recovery process."

Helga waved her off.

A knock on the door reverberated through the small room, bringing Helga temporarily out of her zombie like state. The chubby reception lady peeked her head through the door, her eyes flashing merrily around the room.

"Ms. Pataki, you have a visitor down stairs."

Helga was confused. Who would be visiting her? Surely not her parents. _Would they?_

She shook her head, clearing her head, "Yeah…I'll be right down."

The receptionist flashed her a bright smile and shut the door.

* * *

Helga walked, as fast as she could down the hallway that she'd been directed to after making her way down stairs, nearly falling to her death for the millionth time in one week. Her mind itched to know who was visiting her and she couldn't move her feet fast enough.

Her face fell immediately when she stepped into the room.

"Not you…" She groaned, seeing Gerald sitting at a fold out table in the middle of the room.

"Yes, me," He replied, standing up, "We need to talk."

Helga sighed and rolled her eyes, "Why can't I get rid of you?"

"I'm persistent, now sit," He pointed a stern finger at the chair in front of him. She copped him a glare, letting him know that she didn't appreciate being told what to do.

"Now…" Gerald began, bringing up his favorite manila folder, and thumbing through it. He pulled out two sheets of paper and slid one across the table to her. "We need to talk about this…"

Helga coolly glanced down at the paper, quickly reading it. **"Items **_**s**_**tolen: 1400 in cash, 9mm handgun…"**

"What about it?" She eyed him annoyingly.

Gerald slid her the second piece of paper, and watched her eyes run over its surface, devouring the words. "Why does that seem match?" He finally asked.

Helga's eyes continued to waltz across the page, finally settling upon, **"****Weapon found at murder scene, Springfield Armory 9mm…"**

He watched her eyes widen in pure surprise.

She lifted her eyes, burning a whole through him, "I'm not talking about this," Her voice was icy.

"Why not? You stole the thing from you own father. Could it be? Could it be that they're the same?" He countered. When she didn't answer he narrowed his eyes at her, playing her game, "You know Helga...I think you did this, and as soon as I can prove its the same…it's over for you."

As his voice rippled through the air, Helga felt streak of pure rage explode through her veins."Why can't you just admit that you've had it out for me since we were young?!" She leaned across the table, shaking with anger.

Gerald gaped, "Had it out for you?!"

"Why _here_? Why _now?_ Why all of a sudden? Huh? Why make my life hell now? Huh?"

"Why now? Because I _found_ a missing link!" .

"You found a coincidence! At the end of the day, you're nothing more than a dumb cop trying to look like a hero!" She spat before rising from the table, and stalking from the room. All while trying to choking back the tears that were about to spill over her lids.

* * *

**A/N:** Chapter 7 down. 'Tis been awhile since I've updated. Anyway, enjoy! R&Ring is always good.


	7. Red Eyes and Tears

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**Red Eyes and Tears**

"Just like a wrecking ball,

To the house of my father,

Always giving demolition,

Never giving nothing to me,

And the hangman's kissing my neck,

Kissing my neck." - The Paris Riots (Wrecking Ball)

* * *

It hadn't been what Helga had expected. On the contrary, she'd expected that he was there, perhaps to convince her to rattle off the names of a few escaped peoples that attended that dreadful party weeks ago. The dish that he offered up was the _last_ thing she had expected.

She stalked to the door in a blinding rage, fighting back the tears that were pushing so heavily through her eyes. She never cried. She was raised to never bring out the typical water works in emotional situations, and her efforts were outwardly working.

The dark man behind her leaped up from his chair, nearly sending the table toppling over with his knees. He wanted to strangle her because of her cold, selfish behavior but he resorted to a verbal assault of sorts instead.

"He was my best friend!" He yelled to her fleeting form, the veins popping out on his neck in anger.

She nearly tripped she halted so quickly, turning around to stare at him through bloodshot eyes. She had nothing to say to him, even as her mouth opened in attempt to speak.

With her voice unable to work, she turned and walked out of the room.

She didn't bother walking back up the stairs to her room, instead seeking out an unoccupied bathroom faculty to take shelter in. The bile was so thick in her throat that it was painful to swallow. She kicked open the bathroom door, hurriedly flipping the light switch before locking the door's deadbolt before she withered and slid down the doors mass, crumpling onto the floor where she let the tears stream freely, soaking her face and hands.

It felt relieving, and yet, terrible at the same time.

* * *

Gerald trudged into the door of his apartment, his face etched with a noticeable feeling of aggravation as he dropped his work belongings carelessly onto a nearby table, loosening the top buttons of his collared shirt.

"Phoebe?"

He walked over, collapsing onto the couch and picking up the remote.

"Did you just get in?" Phoebe's voice called behind him.

Gerald glanced over his shoulder to see her walking into the room.

"Yeah. Long day," He flipped through the channels aimlessly and she sat down beside him,"I went and saw Helga today."

Phoebe nodded, "And how did that go?"

She watched him take in a deep thoughtful breath, shaking his head in the process. "She denied it—well practically denied it and told me I was stupid," He leaned forward, dropping the remote on the coffee table and clasping his hands together.

Phoebe continued to watch him intently, "So you really think she is capable of something like that?"

"Phoebe, I saw something in her eyes that I haven't seen before today.," He turned and looked at his girlfriend, "Fear."

She sighed, pulling herself up off the couch, "I don't know what to make of any of this Gerald. You're right; these things are a little too coincidental but she fawned over him."

He shook his head, "I know. I just just think that...it's entirely possible that something nasty happened between the two of them that set her off."

Phoebe waved her hand dismissively, "Enough of that talk, what do you want for dinner?"

Gerald picked up the remote again and reclined back into the sofa comfortably.

"Whatever you want I guess."

* * *

Helga finally emerged from the bathroom where she'd locked herself for some time, to the relief of several custodial employees. She looked like a zombie, moving comatose across the lobby and up the stairs. She didn't feel any better either. Her milky, bloodshot eyes sat, sunk almost into her tired black drooping lids and she still shook uncontrollably, but not from being cold.

She opened the door to her room and fell hard on her bed, not bothering to close it behind her. Laying there face down in her pillow she drifted into a deep dreamless sleep.

She would be ashamed to admit, she slightly hoped she'd never wake up.

It seemed far easier to just keep running from the problem.

* * *

It came to him that night. Something he should have done before he had even made a visit to Helga. Talk with her parents, particularly_ her father_, Bob Pataki. After all, it was his gun that was stolen, and then later found, years later, at the crime scene.

Or at least _he_ thought it was the same gun.

Gerald was almost too giddy as he walked up the stone steps of the Pataki's porch and rang the doorbell. It was a Saturday, he figured his chances were good for catching them home and to his delight he heard muffled footsteps approaching the door.

It swung open to reveal very aged, dirty-blonde woman, wearing cozy winter lounge apparel and a pair of square rimmed glasses perched just a little crooked on her nose.

"Can I help you?" She asked.

Gerald cleared his throat and nodded, "Ah, yes, I'm officer Johanssen , is it possible for me to have a word with Bob Pataki?"

She shook her ahead, "He's out at the moment."

Gerald mentally sighed, his hopes, temporarily dashed. "Umm, okay..." He fished a pen and pad out of his shirt pocket and scribbled a number down onto the paper and handed it to her "Can you have him call me. Or I can just drop by another time," He smiled before turning to leave.

"What's this about?" Her gruff voice croaked out behind him.

He turned around and gave another quick smile, "Ah, just some questions about your daughter, Helga Pataki."

Miriam's lips pursed and she shook her head, "I'll tell him."

"Thank you," Gerald responded, before fleeing down to the street and hopping back into his car and drove off.

He'd be looking forward to Bob Pataki's call, or another visit, if it came to that.

* * *

Helga was bolted from her 13hr sleep by the harsh ringing of her bedside phone. Extremely confused and paranoid she stared around, looking for the source of the clatter before grabbing the offensively toned phone off its hook.

"H-Hello?" She breathed heavily into the receiver.

_"What the hell are you doing now?!"_ Her father's voice barked.

"What are you rambling about?"

_"Your mother said an officer showed up at the house today wanting to talk to me about you—"_

"Crimeny, _Bob, _I didn't do anything!" Her blood began to boil. "What—What did he look like? Did he say his name?" She probed.

Bob could be heard talking to the muffled voice of her mother in the background.

_"Your mother said Johanssen, why?"_

"Shit…" Helga muttered.

_"Helga, if you don't explain to me what's—"_

"He probably wants to talk to you about that gun I stole from the beeper store, he's trying to pin it to Arnold." Helga rubbed her head with her free hand, feeling her blood pressure rise, probably too a deadly level.

The other end of the phone went pen drop quiet, so much so that Helga briefly thought Bob had hung up on her.

_"You listen to me…"_ His voice was unnervingly level, _"I don't know what happened with you and Arnie. I don't know what you did, Helga, but I AM NOT going to get dragging into this."_

"Dad—"

_"I am SICK of dealing with the bullshit you get yourself into. No more. I am sorry; you're on your own. The truth will come out, and whatever that may be, you will have to live with it." _With that the phone clicked and she knew he had hung up.

His attempt seemed feeble compared to Helga's rage at her father. She yanked the phone out the wall and smashed it into the opposite wall. A mix of fear and anger engulfed her to the point of explosion. Her heart beat fervently, so much that she feared it might burst along with her emotional roller coaster.

She paced the length of the room, shaking violently as her mind fought to process the over flow of thoughts. She was stuck in rehab, her parents just abandoned her, and Gerald was connecting dots that she really didn't want to know about.

Her mind ran away into an erratic spiral of dark thoughts that would scare even the most disturbed of people. She _felt_ erratic, she felt deadly, she felt like somebody else, she felt angry, she felt like she wanted to hurt somebody, she felt like she wanted to hurt herself.

Her world was crumbling apart around her; she knew that much.

She just hoped she wouldn't lose her mind in the process.

* * *

**A/N**: Another chapter after awhile without posting. Sort of short, mainly because it was a pain to write. R&R please, and thank you to all the readers that do.


	8. All you do is Talk, and I'm Aching

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**All You Do is Talk...And I'm Aching**

"She turned away, what was she looking at?

She was a sour girl the day that she met me,

Hey, what are you looking at?

She was a happy girl the day that she left me,

What would you do?

What would you do if I follow you?

What would you do if I follow?" - Stone Temple Pilots (Sour Girl)

* * *

It had been two days shy of a week since Helga had last talked to anybody. She'd managed to calm herself a bit since her encounter with Gerald and then Bob, but something just wasn't quite right in her anymore. She'd sat on edge almost the whole time, thinking that at any moment they were going to bust down the door and arrest her. It never happened, but never the less it made her feel deeply paranoid. She was beginning to see more of herself in those case descriptions of mentally unstable people she'd been so keen to read, almost religiously in her college courses just years ago.

_So this is what it feels like on the other end_, She thought very bitterly.

That day fared no better for her mood as she laid in bed, staring at the ugly white ceiling, counting random stains on its surface. Leak stains; she figured they were, then again…who knew._ Who cared_? She'd only left her bed once so far that day, and that was for a bathroom visit. Breakfast skimmed by unnoticed to her and lunch was approaching soon and she sincerely _hoped_ that they wouldn't force her to come down and eat since she'd missed only one meal. They already controlled every other activity she did, couldn't that at least allow her to decide if she wanted to eat?

She continued to stare on, blurring her vision in and out of focus. The brownish stains on the ceiling moved, liquefying into a gorgeous mahogany substance, uncanny to alcohol in her mind. It gushed towards her with frothy white caps that made her mouth water.

She blinked.

Sighing she rolled over onto her side, pulling her legs up towards her chest and tried to find _something_ _else_ to stare at as her brain rambled on. She was bored, that was obvious but, surprisingly, she had begun to crave _some _kind of human contact outside of these walls. She yearned for somebody to tell her everything would be okay.

Ha! Like _that_ was going to happen.

She stared at the new telephone sitting on her bedside table. She tried to refrain from referring to it as 'new' seeing as it looked older and more decrepit than the one that she'd destroyed. Too bad she was terrible with numbers or she would have tried to call somebody of importance to her. If she only could remember though, she might would have had a temporary release for all her boredom and anxiety.

Tightly screwing her eyes shut, she racked her brain vigorously, hoping it would produce a magic combination of 9 numbers. Defeated, she uncurled her body, sitting up against the beds headboard, becoming visibly angry with her foggy memory.

It was rapidly turning out to be another long and miserable day.

* * *

To his dismay, he hadn't received his much anticipated call from the king of mobile products. Never the less, it failed to detour him from seeking out answers to what could only be described as a very poor investigation attempt. He had questions, a lot of them. Even those that he did answer tended to leaving him asking _even more_ questions. The work was becoming tireless, to say the least, and he was becoming more and more obsessed with knowing.

Gerald turned his car onto an aged street, lined with traditional apartments and rentable homes, most of all of them owned by by Hillwood University. He was familiar with the area locally referred to as 'college town.' Even though it was more on the outskirts of the campus it didn't mean that it lacked excitement. It was known for being a ruckus street that everybody wanted to live on because of the cheap rent and wide selection of bars that were within walking distance. The house he was looking for was easy to find. He recalled the directions given to him for his very first visit.

"_Look for the forest green house with the Amityville horror windows, you can't miss it."_

The familiar voice painfully echoed around the walls of his skull as he pulled to the curb of the above mentioned abode. It appeared to have a resident, but looked to be unoccupied at that particular hour of the day. The bottom of his stomach churned as he stared at the small house in its mostly unchanged state.

Windows aside, it still was a horror.

He opened his car door and stepped out onto the gnarled pavement of the road and walked up to the curb of the house, peering at it through a tightly knitted brow. He didn't know why he was even there. It had seemed like a good idea to drive out and chat with neighbors, before it hit him. Most of the neighbors were most likely graduated and gone.

"Hello there officer!"

Gerald spun to the right, meeting the greetings of an older woman carrying a yard rake.

"Hi there!" He offered. She huffed over to stand next to him, propping herself against her rake.

"Bradford pears…they are the messiest trees," She commented while she caught her breath.

Gerald chuckled slightly, his eyes briefly darting to the pile of leaves in the middle of her small yard.

"Is there anything I can help you with since I'm out and about?"

"Maybe so. How long have you lived here?" He crossed his arms.

"Well, about twenty years I suppose...people tell me I'm crazy, living on a street with all these kids. Doesn't bother me though," She remarked proudly.

Gerald couldn't help but smile at her comment, "Right. So do you remember the couple that lived here about seven years ago?"

The woman took in a deep sigh, nodding her head sadly, "I'm afraid I'll never forget them. It was a tragic thing to fall on that young man. He was such a nice boy too, forgive me for not knowing names now, kids come and go constantly around here."

"I understand."

"He'd always wave to me and say 'hello' if I was in the yard."

"Do you remember anything about the girl?"

The woman scratched her wrinkling chin with her bony index finger, "Eh, she seemed nice enough when they moved in."

Gerald nodded, looking back towards the green house, pondering, "How about the night of the shooting?" He turned his head back towards her, "Do you recall anything strange happening before then?"

The woman turned and stared at the house along with him, "Well, they were fighting, but they'd been fighting badly for a few months by then. I think she might have been doing something…._illicit_ but I just don't know. I don't listen in on people's conversations but sometimes you just can't help but overhear, you know?" She turned and looked at Gerald.

"Yes ma'am I do."

"Well, regardless of what it was, she was doing _something_ that he hated and well, I don't remember the exact words, but in a nutshell he told her he'd had _enough_. I went to bed there right after, they were kids you know? They'd figure it out by the next morning and what not," She changed her footing, popping the rake up and down in the dirt several times.

Gerald nodded, scratching the back of his head, "Did you hear anything after that?"

"Oh, afraid not. I always sleep with the radio on. A habit really, you kind of have to living around all of these hooligans. No, I only remember getting up and then seeing a pile of police cars file onto front of the house," She shook her head slowly.

Gerald remained silent, staring at the ground.

She perked an eyebrow at her sudden realization,"You, know, you're probably the first officer ever to ask me any questions."

"It doesn't surprise me ma'am," He raised his brows, agreeing with her, "Well, I have to get going…" He extended his hand, shaking hers, "Thank you very much for talking with me."

"You are very welcome," She smiled gingerly at him. He walked back around to his vehicle, and she walked back into her own hard, continuing her chores.

* * *

She sat there, like a seduced child, burned out on their sweet tart sugar high. Her mind and body mellowed but far from serine and in tune with nature. Mostly her body bubbling with aggravation and she fought hard, oh she fought so hard to keep her focus on important daily issues, but it was proving impossible. As it turned out, in her case, the important issues lay _outside _the walls of her current residence. Away from reach…away from any sort of proper contact or... _agreement._

But what could she say even _if_ she had a voice outside of those walls?

For the last day, when she hadn't been too disoriented for cogitative process, she'd rehearsed and ran the scenario over and over, desperately reaching for a _"ah ha!" _of some sort to prove her own point.

But she could never produce anything!

There was nothing. Nothing that…

"-Ms. Pataki…"

Her deeply creased eyebrows perked upward at the sudden intrusion of a male voice. She leaned back in the dinky fold out chair she sat in, running a hand through her hair in a slapdash fashion.

"Yeah?" She responded more shortly than she truly intended to. Habits.

"How about you tell us about some of the biggest struggles you've experienced lately."

She bit her bottom lip, lolling her head back a bit, and suddenly finding something mighty interesting on the ceiling above. Not really. Truthfully, she could have died right then and there from the sheer amount of irony in the question. She had a list longer than Santa's scroll and that was _only _counting the trouble of just being in that place.

She finally rested her dull blue eyes on her councilor, shrugging and sighing.

"Anything. Even the simplest thing is okay," Her councilor probed, a common and trying hobby of his.

Her jaw tightened and she sucked in a deep breath, becoming irritated that she was being forced to answer the 'stupid question.'

"I feel…angry," Her eyes fell to the floor as the last word begrudgingly slithered past her lips.

"Why do you feel angry?"

She opened her mouth for a vicious retort but snapped it shut immediately. It wasn't a lie; she did feel angry about everything. She was angry about being there, about being cornered, about her life, about remembering—

At that she shook her head rapidly, trying to clear away her thoughts, "I don't know, I just am…and…"

Why was she still talking? "…all I can do is tremble, sleep and be furious with everything I lay my eyes on. Aren't I suppose to be happy or something? Overjoyed by the idea I'm correcting my life?"

She truly did wonder about that though. Deducting the other problems out of the equation she should have been enthralled about turning over a new leaf, yet all she felt was dread and, anger of course.

"Mmhmm…" Was all her councilor replied with.

Why wouldn't her mouth shut? _Who talks about this stuff to strangers? _

"I mean, I have a daughter, and I love her but I can't feel any kind of happiness when I think about how this will _better_ her life because it's being overridden by resentment becau-" .

_Lonely and sick. Lonely and sick people share this stuff with strangers. _

Helga's eyes darkened considerably at her mental truth and she snapped her mouth shut. No, she wasn't going there. She wouldn't say it. How it has even become words, she wasn't sure, but it did and she knew one thing and one thing only, she wasn't going to become one of _them_. She wasn't one of those unhinged people sitting around her, spouting their sick twisted thoughts on a daily bases.

Or perhaps she really was.

_No!_

The councilor, oblivious to her internal battling, nodded his head, "Because?"

"Forget it. Never mind."

"It's okay to say whatever it is that is bothering you. It's all part of the healing process."

Helga snorted, grasping at her old demeanor, "So feeling like I could kill somebody for a drop of booze and a shot of coke for some happiness is healing? Crimeny, this place must turn out all _sorts_ of serial killers!"

"Ms. Pataki…" Her councilors face became strict at her attempt to mock him.

She waved him off, "Yeah, yeah…I got it."

Thank God she'd managed to avoid admitting anything major.

* * *

Gerald dug his fork into is pile of creamy mash potatoes and gravy, swirling it around into a good mixture for his taste buds. He scooped up a hefty dollop onto his utensil and shoved into his mouth and closing eyes in ecstasy while he chewed.

He swallowed, "Mmm, delicious Phoebe."

She flashed him a quick smile before cutting into her chicken and taking a bite.

"Guess where I went today?" Gerald said, knifing his own slab of meat to bits.

"I don't know, where?"

"College town," He stuck a fork full of food into his mouth.

"Did you find anything?"

Gerald nodded vigorously while trying to finish chewing as quickly as possible. "A neighbor, actually," He swallowed hard.

He grabbed his glass of water and took a giant gulp to help wash down his painfully large bite of food.

Phoebe looked skeptical, "There's still a student living down there? It's been almost—"

"No, she's an older elderly woman. Lives next door."

"Oh. Interesting, I don't ever recall seeing her there," She shrugged, swirling her utensil around in her mash potatoes.

"I don't either but we only really went over there at night."

Phoebe nodded, "That's true. And not very often after awhile either," She agreed, "Did this neighbor have anything promising to say?"

Gerald took the last bite of food on his plate and chewed quickly, but much more carefully than the last time."She pieced together the night of for me," He pushed his empty plate away from him and scratched his bursting belly, "She said they were fighting badly."

Phoebe leaned forward on her elbow, her ears perked with immense interest, "Did she say what they were fighting about?"

"She didn't have any details of anything but, she did say she heard Arnold say he that was fed up with what ever it was."

Phoebe pushed her empty plate away from her, "Hmm. This mess gets more and more intriguing. What do think?"

"I think he was going to leave her, and I think that set her off," Gerald replied in a serious tone, "By now I think it's safe to say that she hasn't ever been functioning with all the screws."

"Maybe, but who knows what _really_ goes on in somebody's head though," Phoebe countered thoughtfully,"So, where do you go from here?"

Gerald reclined back in the wooden chair as much as it would physically allow him to and sighed, "I think I'm going to go 'hang out' with her on the next chance I get."

* * *

Helga exited her meeting feeling rather foolish. It wasn't like her at all to divulge her fears and problems with close friends, much less with strangers, but she had and there was no turning back the clock to reprise her words. No one would probably even remember in a few days anyway. And besides, they had their own problems to worry about.

She hobbled up the stairs, down the hallway and entered her room, plopped down on her bed and stared around the room. She wasn't tired at the moment, probably because she'd slept most of the day. Her eyes caught a box in the corner.

She stood up and walked over to it and peered in. It was full of stuff, but she couldn't remember exactly what was in it. She snatched it up and walked back over to her bed and sat it down. She dug in, pulling out a couple pairs of pants, her ratty old fleece she'd been missing, her personal toothbrush and toothpaste…

_I wish I'd seen that sooner, wouldn't have to be using the shitty rehab ones…_

She pulled out a blanket, her favorite blanket actually, her pillow, and a bag of crushed Doritos…

_What the hell Bob? _

The box was now empty, except for the loose pictures that littered the bottom. She flipped the box over and dumped them onto her bed and tossed the box back into the corner. She remembered them being in there when she first rooted through the box. Why would Bob pack pictures?

Which reminded her, she would be technically 'homeless' whenever she was released from this place. Bob had rented out her apartment, seeing as she wasn't around to pay. The woes of your father owning your place of residence.

She cleared her bed off, save for the pictures and bag of Doritos and sat down. She might as well weed through the photos since she had nothing better to do. She pulled open the crummy bag of Doritos and dug in as she began flipping through the pictures, one by one.

As if the universe knew that she wanted quiet, the door swung open and her obnoxious roommate skipped in with too much pep. The universe was a cruel bitch...

"Hey!" She chirped

"Hey."

Jessica plopped down on her bed cross legged and stared at Helga, "So, what you doing?"

Helga shrugged, flipping over another picture, "Going through these pictures that were at the bottom of that box."

"I remember, there was a really cute blonde guy in one."

Helga tilted her head in the girl's direction, her brows joined together in confusion. Jessica laughed, "Well he was! Don't act like you never noticed or anything."

The blonde rolled her eyes and turned back to the other pictures.

"Can I?"

The brunette was pointed to the stack of sorted pictures sitting on the night stand between their beds.

"Will it shut you up?"

"Yes."

"Knock yourself out."

Jessica hurriedly snatched them up and began to thumb through carefully. Her eyes twinkled and danced across each still frame, a warm smile darting across her full lips.

"You guys are adorable…"

"Hmm?" Helga replied, still working her way through the remaining sea of photos still on her bed.

"You and the blonde guy," She flashed Helga a picture of her and Arnold snuggled comfortably on a couch. They were young there, about 18, in their 'college town' house on an off day from class.

Before things got bad.

"Thanks…" Helga replied quietly.

"Is he waiting on you?" Jessica pried, still transfixed on the bundle of pictures in his hand.

"No… he's not."

Jessica's face puckered up into a sore expression of sorrow and pity, "Oh, sorry. I guess some things just don't work out sometimes huh?"

"He's…he's…dead, so, _no_, I guess sometimes things _don't_ work out," Helga felt a rock lodge in her throat. She raked the scattered photos remaining on her bed together into a disgruntled pile and carried them over and dumped them back in the box in which they came. She was suddenly tired of looking at them.

"Oh, wow…I'm sorry." Jessica apologized.

Helga nodded, unable to find her voice, walked back to her bed and sat down on it rather stiffly.

"What happened?"

"A car jacking…gone wrong," Helga lied. It left such a bitter taste on her mouth, but she knew it tasted far better than dwelling on the truth.

Taste aside, what was wrong with her? She should have bitten that girls head off a year ago for her nosy behavior.

"That's so sad…" Jessica set the neat stack of pictures back on the bedside table.

"Yeah well, it makes you appreciate the special things a little more I suppose."

"How long were you guys together before…"

Helga sucked in a deep breath, "Awhile. Childhood friends."

"Aw, that's cute. How did you guys get together?" Jessica sat up on her knees, eagerly anticipating a gushy response.

"God you're nosy aren't you?" Helga snapped.

Jessica drew back a little but seemed largely unaffected by her counter parts words. She shrugged, "Sorry, I'm just a sucker for romantic stuff."

Helga wrestled internally with herself. She _could_ tell Jessica to buzz off and mind her own business and that would be the more appropriate response for her. However, her ever growing hunger for human interaction on some normal, anti-analytical level caused her to bite her tongue, and bite it _hard_.

The loneliness, combined with her revelation that she _could not_ keep Arnold bottled up forever, as she had been doing for the past six years. She'd bottled him, locked him in a chest and stored him in the deepest darkest crevices in the back of her mind, only to be thought about on clear minded days. It would be painful…but she wouldn't be able to carry around her secrets forever.

She blinked, snapping out of her trance. She turned her attention back towards her roommate, who shrugged when she caught her eye.

"Um, well…" She began slowly, diverting her eyes down to her bed sheets, "I bullied him all of our childhood…only because I liked him."

_Love…Loved, _She tightened her jaw.

Jessica giggled, once again enthralled by the story to be.

"I guess we were about 17 and he was on the rebound from an ex-girlfriend and I was just kind of there I guess. A friend of mine at the time and a…friend…" Helga's eyes narrowed slightly at the reference to Gerald. "…of his were dating and they were going to a carnival on a Friday I think."

Jessica nodded

"She invited me and another guy along but he canceled on us the day of for some reason, I don't remember. Anyway, my friend's boyfriend, his friend, got him to come along to even things out," A small smile formed on her lips, "When we got there, our friends 'left us' so we ended up just riding everything our selves, and when we had ridden everything there was we just walked around and talked." Helga paused, "We just…clicked that night."

The brunette smiled warmly

"He drove me home after we left the carnival and…we were attached at the hip from there on." Helga nodded, her throat tightening to restrict any further vocal communication.

"That's sweet—"

There was a knock on the door, and a middle aged dirty blonde guy stuck his head in and smiled towards Helga. It was Todd, or 'Mr. Ankle bracelet' as Helga had come to refer to him. The keeper of her key.

_Saved._

"Hey," He opened the door wider and slipped his entire body inside, "Are you planning on taking a shower tonight?"

"Oh, yeah…" Helga's voice broke and she ran a hand through her messy blonde locks, "Sorry, I came up here and lost track of time."

She scooted down to the edge of the bed and kicked her legs up. Todd dug through his pockets and reemerged with a tiny sliver key on an ugly alumni key chain with a few other keys. He unlocked each cuff and Helga scurried off to the shower for her nightly bath.

Locking the door behind her, she quickly undressed and hopped into the warmth of the showers spray. The warm water felt good flowing over each of her muscles. She'd dipped a toe into the memory pool tonight, and she wasn't so sure how she felt about it. It had been something she was dreading the most when she discovered she was being sent here.

It was maddening, remembering everything you didn't want to. Like a TV with its channels being flipped rapidly and nothing you could do about it…

Bingo.

A light illuminated in her head. The root of her irrational anger that bubbled within. It was all about remembering. Remembering how her life was once pleasant, granted her life had never been any fairy tale and she'd always been somewhat of a trouble maker. She'd finally found her reason to...somewhat behave and she'd managed to let it slip through her fingers.

Scratch that—

She willingly, knowingly allowed her life to be ripped away from her. The longing she felt for him was barely describable in words. She missed seeing him, she missed his smile, his laugh, his voice, the way he touched her, and the way his lips brushed across hers.

She missed him so much that it _hurt_.

And she didn't think it would _ever_ get better.

* * *

_The cafeteria of the school buzzed loudly with the chatter of the latest events amongst he youth. It was Friday, which meant time went by extra-ordinarily slow, which was still a phenomenon for most kids. At a round table, at the furthermost end of the cafe, sat a bored looking boy with corn flower hair covered by a blue baseball hat. His attention relentlessly wandered over to a table, a few feet away, his vision seemingly tunneled, as he drowned out the continuous murmurs in the back ground._

_"Arnold? Hey man, you there?!" A pair of fingers snapped in front of his face._

_Arnold shook his head, looking at his best friend._

_"Huh?" He asked, confirming his oblivion._

_Gerald rolled his eyes, "I asked if you wanted to head to the carnival tonight. Phoebe and me were suppose to go with Helga and another guy but he bailed so we need another person to even the group because I sure as hell ain't about to have Pataki as a third wheel."_

_Arnold sighed, not really listening to the whole sentence. "I don't know Gerald, I don't feel much like going anywhere tonight," His eyes wandered back over to the table he'd been staring at previously._

_Gerald followed his friend's gaze and only managed to shake his head in disbelief, "Man, forget her."_

_Arnold snapped back to his friend, his eyes pleading with sadness._

_"It's not that easy Gerald," _

_"Yeah it is. It's been two weeks now. You don't need her crap."_

_Arnold looked back over at the table. A pretty red headed girl sat on the knee of some beefy looking jock that he didn't know, lolling her head back in laughter over a joke somebody was telling. It made him sick, but not in the stomach, in the heart._

_"She's become a whore anyway," Gerald cast a dirty look in Lila's direction. "So, what ya say? Carnival tonight?"_

_Arnold turned around, propping his elbows up on the table, clasping his hands together._

_"Who's going again?" He inquired_

_Gerald dropped his head and sighed."Phoebe and I were supposed to go with Helga and another guy but he canceled, therefore we need a fourth person to prevent a third wheel."_

_Arnold gave him a funny look, "News flash Gerald, me and Helga...not so good of friends," He thumbed over to the direction of where Helga sat with Phoebe and their group of friends._

_The dark skinned boy waved off his friend's declarations, completely unconvinced. "She's not so bad anymore. Maybe. Man...she's Phoebe's best friend, help me out here."_

_"All right, I'll go" Arnold finally replied, dropping his head to show his protest but Gerald's face lit up brighter than a 100 watt bulb._

* * *

_Arnold skipped down the street towards the carnival he'd promised to be at. He'd told Gerald earlier that he'd meet them there, as he had things to do before. Unfortunately the availability of parking in this city, especially during carnival time, was scarce to none, hence the reason he was trotting down the street. He saw his friends standing, rather impatiently at the gates as he sauntered up to them._

_"Hey, sorry guys…had to park kind of far…away" He spoke between breaths. _

_The foursome entered into the carnival, looking around, mesmerized at what to ride first. Gerald and Phoebe intertwined hands and walked ahead of Helga and Arnold, putting both in an immensely awkward spot._

_"Don't be so quiet over there, you may become a mute," Helga grinned at Arnold, who'd been walking, and, staring off into space._

_His head twisted in her direction so fast if might have flown off. His cheeks turned rosy with embarrassment, "Sorry," He rubbed the back of his neck._

_Helga smiled and glanced around the carnival, searching for an appealing ride. She stopped, "How about we start with the teacups guys?"_

_She pointed at the ride and Arnold stopped, eyeballing where her finger pointed. Both of them turned around to find Gerald and Phoebe were gone, their faces contorting into an embarrassed smiles._

_"It seems we've been left." Arnold grinned_

_"It seems we have." She giggled,"Tea cups, Arnold?" She motioned towards the ride._

_Her corn flowered hair companion smiled and nodded, "After you."_

* * *

_Despite the reluctance Arnold had felt about having to spend time with Helga, he'd actually had a good time with her. She proved to be a very civil human being, when she chose to be. They'd been on almost every ride in the entire carnival, excluding the 'love boat' ride. For obvious reasons. _

_Helga sat, listening intently to Arnold spin his tale of heart break by Lila, while the bucket of the Farris wheel they sat in, turned like a clock. He wasn't exactly sure why he was telling her about his love life, but Gerald had become bored with it and he was placidly curious of what a female's opinion of his situation would be._

_"...But yeah…sorry for telling you all that…I feel weird now…" Arnold chuckled, more than a little embarrassed, by his revelations._

_"I wouldn't worry about it too much. You can't make somebody like you," She pointed out. Knowing all to well the truthfulness of those words,"Plus, you're way too nice of a guy to be strung along by slut like her."_

_Arnold gave her a look, but she only rolled her eyes, "I'm sorry, do you ever listen to hallway chatter? Girls a complete ho-bag."_

_"Yeah, I suppose you're right," He sighed. _

_A spatter of silence erupted between the two as they stared over the bucket rail, admiring the view from up top._

_"You know, I've had a really good time tonight," Arnold's deep voice broke the silence; his bottle green eyes remained transfixed to the ground below. Helga tilted her head, catching his form in her deep blue eyes._

_Her lips curled into warm smile. "Me too."_

* * *

_It was around 12:00a.m when they finally decided it was time to depart from the carnival. After and aggravating searching, they finally found their friends which they'd 'lost' moments after entering the carnival. The reunited foursome stood outside sharing their enjoyment rating with each other for a few minutes._

_"Well, I'm heading out…" Arnold broke the chatter between his friends, "Do you want a ride, Helga?"_

_He felt awkward asking, but after tonight's pleasant experience, he figured it couldn't be a bad thing to ask. Gerald perked an eyebrow suspiciously at his best friend._

_"Uh, sure…you live closer anyway," She swallowed hard. _

_"Well, Gerald, I'll call you tomorrow…see ya Phoebe," He waved and he and Helga walked off._

* * *

_Arnold's SUV pulled to the curb in front of Helga's parent's town house flat. No lights were on, which didn't surprise her at the least. She opened the door and stepped out on the side walk, pushing the door closed gently and Arnold got out and walked around the sidewalk._

_"Well, this seems to be my stop," She idled about, making small talk._

_Arnold ran his palm through his blonde locks, further disrupting their perfect placement. "Yes, yes it is," He said, stating the obvious._

_Helga moved past him to walk up the stairs of the stone porch._

_"We should go out sometime," Arnold blurted out before realizing what he was saying. Helga spun on her heel from where she stood at the top of the porch to stare down at him, a little more than shocked. _

_"I mean like, hang out…or something," He stuttered to correct himself, digging his paws into his pockets, possibly in search of a reverse button to revert his embarrassment._

_She felt her face contort into an amused smile, "So, hang out sometime huh? You've decided I'm not so bad after all, eh football head?" She perched her hands on her hips._

_Arnold flashed a wryly smile up to her, stepping up onto the first step "Is that so bad, U-brow?_

_"I have two now…" She pointed her index to her perfectly manicured brows._

_Arnold laughed, heartedly, honestly finding her humorous, "And my head…" He balled his hand into a loose fist and knocked against the side of his skull, "Grew into a normal shape."_

_He stepped up one more step, now just one step away from her. She nodded impressed like,"Touché then"_

_"So what'd you say? Hang out sometime? I had a great time hanging out with you tonight, and I think you had a good time with me…right?" He asked, pulling out some of his boyish charm._

_"I might have…I don't know," She totally flirted back without shame. _

_Arnold stepped up the next step, so he was now standing on the small porch with her and peered down at her short frame standing before him. She looked at him, and for a brief moment, the world stopped as they stared at each others eyes, the butterflies burst out of both their guts. He started to bend down, dipping his head in low to hers, closer and closer, their lips coming dangerously close to touching._

_But Helga stepped back, wobbly reaching for the door handle behind her back. As her hand clutched around the knob, she whirled around from him, grabbing her keys and hurriedly unlocking the door._

_Arnold mentally cursed himself for being so daft, "I'm sorry…"_

_Turning back around, she dropped him a witty smile, inching into the doorway, "Good night Arnold." _

_Arnold nodded "Good night Helga"_

_She slipped inside, waving before the door closed in front of her. Arnold sighed and twisted around to exit the porch when the light popped on and the door creaked open again. He spun around in time to see her peek her head out the door._

_"I didn't forget anything in your…car did I?" _

_"Um, no, I think you got everything."_

_Helga nodded, "All right, well…good night," She waved again and shut the door. The light flickered off, and for a second time he turned to leave._

_The light flipped on...again. _

_Arnold chuckled and turned back around as the door once again moaned opened and she speared her upper body out the crack. _

_"I forgot to thank you for bringing me home…even though you offered, but…thank you…" She explained._

_"No problem," He replied, a smile forming on his handsome face. She nodded and slid back in the door, shutting it._

_Arnold stood there, waiting for the light to go off, signaling for him to leave. Maybe she had forgotten to cut it off. He tiptoed closer to the door, waiting for anything. The heavy door croaked open and a pair of lips came crashing down on his mouth. His shock wore off quickly as he pulled her out the door, their lips never breaking. The blast of 10,000 fireworks exploded between them, figuratively illuminating the night around them._

_Arnold's lips slid into a smile, as his eye lids cracked open enough to see her, "What did you need now?" He whispered_

_Her eyes fluttered open into slits as she peered up to him, "Just saying good night, again." She smirked._

_"Good night, again." He muttered back to her, planting his lips back on hers while snaking his arms around her waist._

* * *

**A/N:** Hmm…this chapter was kind of hard to write and in finally decided to end it with a peek into the past. Not really a flashback, just a peek at how things began with them.


	9. No One Sleeps When I'm Awake

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**Know One Sleeps When I'm Awake**

"It's emotional and I told you so,

But you had to know so I told you,

Please don't look right through me,

Hurts my heart when you do that to me." -Red Hot Chili Peppers (Look Around)

* * *

**One Week Later**

Her bedside phone's offensive ring jolted her upright in her bed. Her heart beat wildly out of control at the startling noise that had busted up a rare restful bout of sleep. The room she rested in remained fairly dark, despite the fact it was about 3:00pm. The drapes had been drawn tightly together, choking out any stray streams of light that could have potentially gotten in. Helga drowsily grabbed for the phones receiver, desperately wanting the noise to stop. Pulling it to her ear, she missed the the correct placement twice, before finally getting it right.

"Yeah..?" She was surprised by her own voice's scratchiness. Like coarse sand grinding across gravel. It suddenly reminded her or how thirsty she was.

"Ms. Pataki, you have a visitor waiting in the lobby," The ever jovial voice of the receptionist quipped on the other end.

"Great," She muttered, "I'll be down in a bit."

"All right, dear. Bye Bye, now," Concluded the receptionist and Helga dropped the receiver back onto the cradle.

Running her hands over her head and face, she rolled her eyes and let out a huge groan. "I don't feel like dealing with you Gerald!" She said as she tossed her legs over the bed and stood up woozily.

Her stomach growled, and her mouth became even more parched. She'd been asleep all day, and hadn't eaten or drank a single thing since the night before. Her body was letting her know about it too. Slugging into the bathroom she brushed her teeth and washed her face in hopes that it would help her wake up a bit. Beauty was not of her concern at the moment, after all she felt terrible and it was _only_ Gerald. She would have changed clothes but she didn't feel like waiting for Todd to slink himself up to her room from wherever he was on the compound at that very moment to unbuckle her anklets. She'd go in blue sweatpants and be content about it.

She slugged out of her room, closing it behind her before snailing down the hallway. Why be in a hurry? When it came to the stairs, she took each one in a precise and excruciatingly slow manner. She was going to make him wait as long as possible and she hoped he saw it too. Her eyes fervently scoped around the lobby area, looking for _him_.

She didn't see him, but she did see a familiar woman sitting in a chair, her head tilted down at the smart phone she held in her hand.

"Olga!" Helga's eyes widened, and she picked up the pass down the stairs.

Smiling warm and motherly, Olga put her phone into her hand bag and stood up, closing the gap between her and her younger sibling, embracing her into a loving hug before pulling back at arms length and giving her the visual once over. Helga felt like a college student, home again for the holidays after a long semester in an out of state university. Except this wasn't 'home' and it was surely to turn into anything but a welcoming visit.

_Surely..._

"What _on earth_ happened Helga?" Olga asked, her eyes engorged with concern.

Helga's eyes slid to the floor. Maybe if she looked hard enough, she'd find something down there that sounded right in words. No, she couldn't 'BS' Olga, nor should she even try. She owed her sister more than that. She'd be an aggravating sarcastic ass to everybody else till she was blue in the face though.

Finally peeling her blue orbs from the floor, she sighed, "First, I need some coffee."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Olga's mouth and she nodded, releasing her hands from Helga's shoulders.

"All right, fair enough," She conceded.

"Um...cafeteria is this way," Helga motioned for her sister to follow her. "We wont stay in there though, we'll go some place quiet to talk."

* * *

In an attempt to avoid the guest rooms because it made Helga fill like she was in prison, they finally settled into a secluded corner of the lounge area. The lounge itself wasn't very heavily populated with patrons today, leading Helga to suspect that there were outdoor games or a field trip transpiring at that time. Whatever the case, and she really didn't care what, it worked out well for Olga's surprise visit.

Staring at her steaming cup of 'Joe', she inquired quietly, "So..I guess Mom and Dad finally told you?"

"Well, nobody ever called to inform me of anything if that's what you're wondering. I ran by the house yesterday to return a casserole dish of mom's that I'd had for a few months now and I saw Sender there. I asked if you were working and they told me you were here," Olga took a quick sip of her own coffee.

Helga ran her eyes across her sisters face like a book page, gauging the emotional investment in that particular statement. Lest not revel too much to an individual while angry and catch a severe lecture. She was a pro at that. However, that was not an option she could afford to sit through at the moment. She didn't read any anger in Olga's face though, just...hurt. A relatively unfamiliar emotion to see for Helga.

"I guess you want details huh?"

"I'd like to know what is going on, yes. Seeing as nobody felt the need to inform me about anything."

Running her hand through her blonde locks, Helga thought hard about where exactly to begin. When in doubt, start with an apology: "I did want to call you, but I was afraid you'd freak out and pull a Dad on me..."

"A what?" Olga asked in bewilderment.

"Dad told me I was more trouble than I was worth and that I was on my own now."

Olga drew back with an astonished expression pasted upon her face, "He did not...?"

Her statement ended with a dangling question mark. She didn't want to believe that their father would be as cold as that, but she knew all too well that her dear sister had a remarkable ability to evoke the _worst_ kind of anger out of everybody. Particularly their Father. And the two had been hauling it out like cats and dogs for the better part of two decades. Not to mention their Father's complete loathing of Helga's erratic disorderly lifestyle, and her consistent ability to find trouble wherever it lurked.

"In a nut shell...and he did tell me I was on my own. I wasn't about to call and risk having you flip out either," Helga reasoned. She took a cautious sip of her hot beverage, determining its drink-ability.

"When did you start drinking again?" Olga asked, uncharacteristically blunt. She watched Helga's eyebrows rise as high as they could go on her forehead as she stared emptily at her cup. Well, that had caught her off guard a bit.

"I'm not going to act erratically like Dad...or Mom for that matter, I just want to know what happened. You never tell me anything anymore," Olga tried again.

Helga believed her eldest sibling. Olga had never acted that erratically in her life, unlike said parents. Her only problem was getting the truth of the matter to roll off of her tongue and into words. She would try though, only because Olga deserved to know.

"I didn't just start drinking again...I started _everything_ again...and not recently, for long while now," Helga sighed, "I went to a party and I have no clue what I did, I just woke up in the hospital, they said my heart stopped and I had coke on me so it was either jail or rehab..."

"Helga Pataki..." Olga scolded in disbelief.

"You said you wouldn't be erratic."

"But-All of those times you _swore_ to me you were okay..." Olga hissed, narrowing her eyes.

Helga dropped her head, letting out her breath, "I know..."

"At the very worst I was thinking..._assuming_ that this had been some sort of recent episode of bad judgment with alcohol and it had gotten out of control, everybody falters at times..." Olga was in shock.

"That too," Helga kept her head down. It was probably the first time she'd felt ashamed of her behavior since...forever.

Olga reached out, "Why?"

"Just stress and stuff, I don't know, is it that surprising?" Helga shook her head and looked away, allowing her defensive walls to block around her.

_Lie, Lie, Lie. You said you wouldn't lie to her. _

Her sister withdrew her hand from her arm, and straightened in her chair. A light bulb had illuminated in her brain. "Helga...Helga look at me."

The blonde lolled her head back in her sisters direction.

"It's time to let it go."

Helga shook her head, "I don't know what you're talking about, Ol_ga._" She said sharply.

The older woman scoffed, "I'm not as dumb as I look, Helga."

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe Mom and I just have the same addictive personality disorder? It just so happens to run in families you know." Helga was becoming more frustrated with the escalation of the conversation. She didn't know how far she wanted to go into this, and wasn't sure how far Olga was willing to dive either.

"We're not talking about _that_."

Helga snorted, "Why do you refuse to acknowledge that our mother is an alcoholic?"

"I do acknowledge—"

"-Oh please! You've never acknowledged it. Her stupid alchi gene skipped you, and bit me in the ass. _The_ _End_. Stop reading so deeply into it."

"_Look,_" Olga interjected sternly, "Mom has a problem, I _understand_ that, a problem that _I know_ you suffer from too."

"And?"

"It's obvious to me that there is _more_ going on with you. It's time for you to come to terms with Arnold's death."

Helga sat like a rock in her seat, staring at her sister through saucer sized eyes.

"That's right I said it. Arnold, Arnold, Arnold. You've got to talk about him sooner or later. You cannot bottle up what happened forever, you're going to kill yourself trying to block it out."

Each time she said his name, Helga felt a familiar sharp pang in her chest. Like a knife trying to dig its way out of her heart and through the bones and muscles of her chest. The way things were going these days, that knife might eventually cut its way completely out. And then what?

Swallowing down a hard gulp to subdue the ache, she sighed deeply, "It's not that easy..."

_You have no idea what's_ _going on right now, Olga._

"I didn't say it was-"

"-Olga," She groaned and rubbed her temples, "You just don't know what I have going on right now, and I can't explain it to you."

_I have a cop investigating me intently for Arnold's murder, and I question myself daily. Explained. _

"I'm not pretending to know how you feel, but I do know how _I feel_ looking at you like this."

She doubted it made a bit of difference though, in one ear and out the other more than likely. It broke Olga's heart to watch her sister's restlessness. A restlessness that apparently hadn't been curbed as much as she'd thought. The girl was a walking definition of Murphy's Third Law. If anything could go wrong, it would and it always did.

"It's extremely selfish," Olga told her.

Helga opened her mouth preparing for a hastily thought, snarly comment but Olga held her hand up, asking for a chance to continue.

"But, I'm not going to say anything else, I came here to see you, not lecture. You are an adult after all, I suppose."

Helga nodded, "Thanks…"

"There is something I've been meaning to ask you though. Why do you have cuffs on your ankles? Is that mandatory of the facility?" She motioned down at Helga's lower legs.

Helga propped both her legs up on the small coffee table in front of their chairs and giggled to herself while she watched her sister's eyes crawl over the metallic harness that she'd probably only ever seen in a Dateline Special interviewing a mass killer.

Helga shrugged her shoulders rather nonchalantly, "I tried to escape the first day here."

Olga's eyes darted away from the ankle cuffs, coming to rest upon her careless face, attempting to do something that she often failed at, read Helga Pataki.

"You tried to escape from the one place that's trying to help you?" Not surprisingly, Olga wasn't entirely shocked by such a revelation.

Helga smirked, "_Did._ I _did_ escape and they caught me and put me in these things to keep me from doing it again."

Olga stared at Helga blankly for a few seconds before slowly shaking her head, "Well I was thinking ankle cuffs were a bit harsh for rehab but after that, it sounds completely appropriate. I fully approve."

"Yeah, Yeah, you would." Helga brushed her off and a short silence broke out between the two for the first time since Olga had arrived.

"Olga, I do have a serious question to ask you though."

"All right."

Helga squirmed in her seat a little bit, cracking her knuckles, "When I get our of here...do you think that...I could...come live with you again for a little while. Only because Dad rented out my apartment for...God knows _how long_ and, you know, obviously my job is ca-put now so...I'm looking at homelessness when I leave here because I'm _positive_ Dad isn't going to let me back in the house."

Olga sighed, a bubble of laughter leaving her throat in a testy manner, "How do you get yourself into these situations?"

"Talent," Helga countered.

The older blonde paused for a moment, tapping her index on her lips as she mulled over an appropriate response, "If whenever you are_ ready_ to leave this place..." She began slowly and deliberately, "You're ready to cooperate with the world and be an upstanding citizen, then I'll see about letting you come stay with us until you can get yourself situated again."

Helga opened her mouth for a reply—

"-But!" Olga cut her off, "It's something I'll have to discuss with Grant, so I'm in_ no way_ promising anything, okay?" She eyed her seriously, making sure her answer was delivered home completely.

"Well that shouldn't be a problem, Grant loves me," Helga smiled smugly.

"He endures you, only because you're my 'baby' sister," Olga winked.

"Sure...whatever."

Olga rolled her watch around her wrist, eyeballing the passage of time, "I've got to get going."

"Oh, okay. Well, I guess I can see you out," Helga replied, standing up from her lounge chair.

"So, do you need anything? Like more of your clothes or anything? I'm sure I could get some of you things from Dad," Olga asked, standing up with Helga, and gathering her belongings.

"No, but I could kill for a cigarette. Actually, do you know any hot attractive guys?"

Sliding her purse strap onto her shoulder, Olga gave her sister a cautiously curious expression, completely oblivious of what her question could possibly entail.

"'Cause I haven't had sex since I broke out of here and I could really use a good lay—"

Olga balked. Helga inwardly giggled to herself watching Olga's eyes inflate into an unnatural size and her mouth slightly unhinge in awe. She had always been proper.

"I'm kidding Olga," Helga rolled her eyes, a smirk darting across her lips, "No not really…"

Olga in turn, rolled her eyes before scoffing at her younger sibling's _grossly _unreasonable request. "You're the most unflattering person I know, do you know that?"

Helga smiled smugly, "You know it. Why would Olga Pataki Harlow ever _willingly_ surround herself with unflattering people?"

"All right, well I really have to get going. I'll try to come back and check on you in about a week. Keep yourself out of trouble in the mean time, please?"

"Sure…"

_Define trouble…_

Olga smiled her infamous motherly smile and wrapped Helga into a another warm hug, "I'll see you soon. I love you."

Helga returned the gesture a little more awkwardly. She wasn't used to hugs or the act of hugging. Actually, she really didn't do hugs. Not like Olga did. That woman loved to hug.

"Love you too."

Olga gave her one last squeeze before releasing her from her embrace. She bid goodbye and Helga watched her glide out of the lounge, through the lobby and out of the front doors. She longed for nothing more than to have been able to freely walk out alongside her. For now though, she was just happy that she'd managed to weasel out of having to discuss Arnold. Because after all, the first rule of Arnold was: you don't talk about Arnold.

* * *

Standing in his living room, Gerald made bold sweeps across with a marker across a white board set up on an easel. His brow furrowed deeply in his deep concentration. He clutched a photo in his free hand and frequently reverted to it as a reference for his drawing. He heard the living room door swing open and the light footed steps of Phoebe stride in before it shut.

"You're home early," Gerald called out while continuing his drawing.

"So are you," Phoebe's sing song voice called back playfully.

"So I am," He mumbled, becoming more engrossed in his drawing than verbal communication.

A few hairs stood up on his neck and the familiar feeling of being watched washed over him.

"What are you drawing?" Phoebe parked her body on the couch.

"A floor plan."

Phoebe shook her head, "Why?"

"I'm pretty sure I've got the domino of events that led to Arnold's murder figured out," Gerald proclaimed, rather proudly at his hard investigative work.

"I see. Care to share?"

Gerald stopped his drawing, only too thrilled to have a pair of ears to listen to what he had to say about that situation. He glided to the side of the white board to allow his better half to appreciate the full view of his boxy, slightly chicken scratched drawing.

"I'm pretty sure the feud began in the living room…" He pointed to an area within at box labeled 'LR'. "I think it escalated to a point where Arnold had, had enough, so from there I believe he went upstairs into their bedroom."

His eyes shifted to Phoebe to be sure she was following. She looked intent enough and so he continued. "I don't know if she followed him right then or a little later. In the photos of the scene, his clothes are everywhere in their room and there is a duffel bag on the floor. Her clothes are perfectly in their drawers except for her sock drawer which is pulled out and discarded of items."

"Hmm…"

"I think he was packing to leave. I think she went up stairs, saw this and flew off the handle. I think another fight broke out in their bedroom and I think he left that one as well. At that point I think Helga was not going to take 'no' for answer, so she goes to her sock drawer…"

Gerald pointed to a little rectangle within the big square entitled 'BR'. "…grabs her dad's stolen pistol, runs down stairs after him, now they're back in the living room, he turns around and POP!"

Phoebe visually grimaced. It was a truly terrible thing to think about. A former friend meeting a tragically violent and sudden end and to have to think about a former best friend as the gun man was even more disheartening. How could you honestly trust anybody when things like this happen?

"And then she just drops the gun where it was found and flees out the back door. It was the only door ajar when units arrived."

"I still just don't know why though Gerald. I don't know how she could have done this. She adored him; he was the brightest light in her world," Phoebe replied, running her hands through her hair.

"Passion is the _most _unpredictable emotion."

* * *

**A/N:** Wow, I have been gone for a long time. Rabias finally reminded me of my long absents from this story. Thank you for doing so! I've been quite busy with trying to finish up my last stint in college. Sometimes as an author though, you forget what it's like to sit on the other side and wait for the update. I hate waiting myself and I am truly sorry for making you guys wait so long. Lol. I know I said last chapter that this one was going to be a "doosey" but I changed my mind, that'll probably be a chapter or so away. So I hope you like this one at the very least. Thanks guys!


	10. A Twisted State

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**A Twisted State**

"You got away, got away, got away with things,

False starts, young hearts get shattered,

Pick up the pieces coming down around you,

You ran away, ran away, it was right on cue,

Can I go on and on and on and on and on and on again?" -Foo Fighters (Dear Rosemary)

* * *

Phoebe rose from the couch and approached the white drawing board, the gears in her brain churning wildly as she proceeded to examine it's theory, or rather, Gerald's. He slowing inched away, allowing her plenty of room to thoroughly inspect his handy work, no sooner had the words of 'passion gone hay wire' left his lips had she suddenly become more interested in his work. What was she looking at exactly? Most importantly, what was she looking at that _he _didn't see? His mouth nearly watered with anticipation for what she had to say.

"Where was Arnold found, exactly?" She finally asked, feeling it appropriate to clue her companion in on her thoughts.

"On the couch," Gerald stated.

Phoebe placed her index on the drawn square representing the couch, "Where was he shot? What part of him?"

"She shot-He was shot in the neck."

She turned, prying her eyes away from the board and planting them on his face, "Was it instant? His death?"

Gerald's jaw tightened, flexing the muscles in his cheeks. "No, it wasn't. The report said it would have taken him about 15 minutes to die."

Phoebe blinked a few times and glanced back at the board, "She wouldn't have done that."

"What do you mean she wouldn't have done that?" Gerald recoiled in bewilderment.

"She _wouldn't_ have left him to suffer like that."

"But-"

"-Let me finish, please?" She could see the frustration boiling under his eyes, "I agreed with your scenario from start to finish _until_ just now."

Sighing deeply, Gerald crossed his arms in defense, "I don't understand what you're getting at Phoebe. I don't see how the time between him being shot and dying makes _any_ difference."

"I think it makes a _huge_ difference, Gerald," Her eyes widened, "'Crime of passion,' I am willing to believe because it does happen, _but_ I'm having an extremely difficult time believing that she _shot him_, saw that he was _not_ dead and just _left_ him there to die. I think seeing him struggle to live would have sobered her rage."

Gerald scoffed, "Phoebe, why _would_ she have helped him? What would have been her gain from that? If he had lived that would have been an automatic conviction for her. Dead men tell no tales!"

She vehemently shook her head, "She would have at _least_ called the police to report it so maybe he wouldn't have died. Even if she had fled the scene, the state or even the country, I think she would have called for help."

"Well, she _did_ flee, did she not? She's been M.I.A. for the past seven years. Why the hell did she disappear in the first place? Why didn't she ever call us? Hell, I even called her for months after it all happened. Nothing!"

At that, Phoebe sighed, turning away from the white board and resuming her previous spot on their sofa, "I talked to her once after everything happened," She admitted, "She sounded…_disoriented_. I asked her where she was she told me she would call me back. Of course she never did."

"Because she ran to her daddy for help and he told her to shut up."

"Bob was always _very_ good at hiding her away to keep her out of public trouble," She removed the clip she frequently wore from her hair and ran her petite hands through her dark locks in frustration. Gerald sat down on the other end of the sofa, positioning himself up against the couch arm for better comfort.

"That's what baffles me. Why did Bob care so much? I didn't think those two even got along?"

Phoebe snorted, uncharacteristic for her, but Gerald's question absolutely humored her, "I guess they got along about as well as a cat and dog do. Business was first in the Pataki household. She knew that. She used it to _her_ advantage whenever necessary."

Gerald scoffed, becoming more irritated than ever with that blonde girl Phoebe referred to, "She's probably about the luckiest person I know. Ole' Bob will pull some strings and she'll be fine, throw in some half ass police work on a murder and she's home free," He groaned loudly, "Makes my blood boil…"

"Can I give you some advice?" Phoebe asked

Gerald gave her a curious look, "…Sure?"

"I know you don't like to give her much credit…but she _is_ smart. She may do stupid things, but she's no dim-wit. Her temper though, is her achilles heel. With that being said, I think that if you want to make trip her up in _any _potential lie that she may be telling you, you're going to have to outsmart her, and play it into her temper."

Gerald nodded, "Phoebe, you've just given me the best idea yet."

"Well, whatever it is, take it and run with it."

Phoebe lifted her body from the couch, walking around it in the direction of the kitchen. "Now, no more Helga talk, what do you want to do for dinner?"

Gerald vacated his seated position on his couch as well and stretched his arms back as if he'd risen from a nap. Sometimes it just felt good to stretch. "You want to go out and get something?"

* * *

"I am fucking freezing!" Helga groaned loudly, wrapping her blanket tightly around her shivering body. +1 again to Bob for packing it, it _was _her favorite one, after all.

_He can still go choke on a beeper though…_

Her roommate walked past where she sat on her bed, still trembling despite the extra added garments. Helga watched her retrieve a magazine and then hop back on her bed.

"Detox my friend, we all went through it," Jessica answered casually, beginning to dully flip through the magazine.

"What?" Helga shot back, annoyed by her presence alone.

Jessica lowered her magazine and stared at her, "You know… your body is cleansing itself on its own time. I mean… it's going to be _way_ out of sync for _awhile_. Like now, you're freezing cold. It feels fine in here. In an hour you might be burning up, who knows?" She shrugged.

"I'm pretty sure I'm dying," Helga chattered, pulling the blanket up over her head to create a cozy hood.

Jessica chuckled, "I'm pretty sure you aren't."

"Yeah, what do you know," Helga muttered. She never bothered to try to even listen out for an answer. Instead she rolled over to face the opposite wall, still unnaturally cold. Maybe she could sleep it off or something? Sleeping was always a good option in these situations, as she'd come to find out. When in doubt, just go to sleep. Though, now that she thought about it, she never really woke up feeling any better at all.

_At least the sleeping part is enjoyable._

So sleep it was. She closed her lids, determined to force her mind to drift away into a dreamless bliss.

* * *

As she predicted the night before, Helga awoke feeling worse than she did when she went to sleep. The phantom feelings of an arctic atmosphere had disappeared, though she was left feeling especially lifeless and particularly pessimistic. To make matters worse, that peppy roommate was doing what she did best. _Annoy._

The girl had been at it for about half an hour with excessive nagging and sheer annoyance. The voice had become a dull pang in Helga's head as she desperately tried to contain her 'anger bubble.' She sighed deeply, rubbing her bloodshot tired eyes with the tips of her fingers, probably a little too roughly.

"So, what do you say? Want to join our outdoor games today?" Jessica asked for about the thousandth time.

"No, No, No and NO!" Helga growled.

Jessica lolled her head back in defeat but still persisted, "Oh _come on_! It'll be fun! You could use some fun," She smiled brightly.

Helga shot the girl the dirtiest look she could muster, trying her best to suppress her bubble. Jessica's smile slid off her face rapidly as she stared at the blonde girl across the room,"Eesh, you don't look so good," Her face scrunched up slightly at Helga's disheveled appearance.

The blonde rolled her eyes.

"Maybe you should go to the nurse of something. Are you running a fever?"

She just wouldn't shut up.

"No!" Helga snapped, "I'm freaking…..healing…or whatever fucking thing you want to call it! I feel like _shit_ and I don't want to play in any of your goddamn nature games! So get the hell out of here!"

Jessica stared at her for a moment, her jaw hung in the air before she finally blinked a few times and snapped her mouth shut.

"Well, uh, you'll probably feel better soon," She replied meekly

She slowly drifted out of the room, for once at a loss of words. Helga was truly grateful for her abrupt exit, for she feared any longer and she might have strangled her with a bed sheet. That day was by far her worst day there. She noted her extreme tenseness immediately when she had awoken some hours ago.

"How much worse could I get?" She'd found herself muttering.

_Was my body really that…screwed? _She'd continued, as if expecting a third party to hand her an instruction manual with a money back guarantee.

If it were only that easy.

She didn't need a manual. Through thorough education she already knew the answers to all her boding questions; however it failed to offer her even the tiniest morsel of comfort and it caused her to privately wish she was ignorant of it all, blindly staring into the future expecting that day to be the nastiest and the next, a new birth.

She cringed.

_Fools…_She'd sneered inwardly, _You have to get worse before you get better. Much worse._

…_and sometimes…you NEVER get better. Fully. _

She shuddered away from the rest of the thoughts that her mind had become infected with. It had become a grungy area over time, sometimes not even being fit for her own use, much less for the viewing of others. This is why she preferred the nirvana of an empty bottle or the tickling in her veins from a choice substance. Oblivion was better than the knowledge of torment.

The memories would continue again, whipping her until they lashed a hole through her skull. Much like they'd beat her before. She wasn't sure if she wanted to go through life like that again.

The thought caused her to cringe, and scratch her forehead in a subliminal effort to make sure there truly was _no hole._ She dropped her hand angrily, realizing what she was doing and how ridiculous it was and climbed off her bed slowly, slipping on her shoes to head out. She felt terrible, but if she had to stare at the walls of her room for one more second she'd surely scream.

Maybe she'd go loaf around in the lounge area just for a change of scenery. Maybe that infuriating roommate of hers was right; perhaps she needed some fresh air. No, too cold out there, what were those idiots thinking? Playing games out in the cold like that? She rolled her eyes, closing her room door behind her and slinking slowly down the hallway.

She halted at the stairs, narrowing her eyes down at them.

_Stupid stairs...stupid ankle things…_

She slowly inched down them, nearly falling only twice, a new best, sighing angrily as she reached the solid floor beneath the last step. Stairs: 1. Helga: 0. Yet again.

She rounded through the lobby towards the lounge area, avoiding the eyes of the cheery receptionist that had greeted her on her very first day. A gust of ice cold wind blew in, causing a wave of chill bumps to splash over her body.

"Great, you're already down here," His voice stabbed ears, causing her to flinch.

She whipped around, boring a hole through him with her eyes, "What do you want?" She spat.

Gerald pointed a finger towards a guest room and began walking towards her. Helga crossed her arms, her face cold as a stone.

"Now," Gerald barked forcefully, making her jump. She rolled her eyes and dropped her arms to her side, trudging into the room he'd pointed out.

They walked into the simple room, decorated with a plain table and chairs where she collapsed down in the nearest one; Gerald took the seat across from her.

"What?" She snapped, crossing her arms onto the table and putting forth her best irritated face to date.

"What do I always want Helga?" Gerald shrugged, "So, I talked to your old neighbor."

"_What_ 'old' neighbor?"

"Arnold and yours old neighbor down in 'college town'… the older lady."

"I wasn't aware we had an _'old lady'_ for a neighbor," She propped her head up on her hand, drawing invisible doodles on the table with her other finger.

Gerald sighed, "You are that oblivious aren't you? Never the less, she actually had some interesting things to tell me, you know that? Like, that you guys were fighting that night. Said you had been fighting badly for awhile. Want to tell me what you were fighting about?"

Helga stopped doodling, her eyes crawling up the table to Gerald's face. She took in a shaky breath, feeling her anger bubble beginning to trickle down her body.

"The hell if I know. You're the investigator, you tell me."

"It had to have been something…pretty bad right? To set you off like that night," Gerald leaned back in his chair and smirked.

Helga set there staring at the table feeling her body heat rising and her heart beat quickening.

"Was he going to leave you?" He baited.

No nibble.

"Was he tired of saving you from yourself? It's no mystery that you're a wild child," Gerald baited her again, this time ducking his head down to try and find her eyes.

But she still didn't snag.

He pulled back up and crossed his arms. "You'd probably been fighting about it for months huh? He wanted you to settle down, and you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. So he was leaving, and you couldn't handle being walked away from."

"He wasn't going to leave me," She finally replied through clenched teeth, pulling her gaze up to meet his and swallowing the rock that was forming in her throat.

Snag!

"Well then, what happened? Please enlighten me, _Helga._"

"I don't know." She backed off.

"You don't know or you don't want _me_ to know?!" Gerald raised his voice, "You know, I'm becoming very bored with your games"

"I'm not five, I don't play games," She lashed, attempting to cool her temper with sarcasm but becoming instantly disappointed when he didn't seem react to her snarky comment.

"Why did you suddenly disappear then? Wouldn't a grieving, innocent girlfriend want to be with her friends for comfort? If she hadn't had had anything to hide, of course."

Helga rubbed her eyes with her palms roughly, "It wasn't like that."

Gerald leaned back in his chair casually, crossing his arms, "Oh, so…so Daddy hid you away then? Because, maybe he knew something that the rest of us didn't?"

Helga dropped her hands down on the table and chuckled, "Yeah, Geraldo, Bob kept me in a cage," She rolled her eyes.

"Obviously he let you out, that's why you're in trouble again."

He watched as her eyes tightened and he couldn't help but smile. He figured that by now he'd ruffled her feathers enough to drop his fake 'bomb' on her lap to chew over, "So, I went through his cell phone records and there were dozens of calls and text to a particular cell phone."

"Probably mine, you dumbass," Helga signed, leaning back in her chair.

"-So, I said, 'hmmm…wonder who this is' and so I dug around a bit and discovered who? _Not you._ No, the number was in fact _Lila's,_" Gerald smirked. He knew it was a complete lie, there was no record of Arnold _ever_ calling Lila at the time, but if she killed for less, pretending there was more might enrage an accidental confession.

Hearing Lila's name suddenly sent Helga's blood to boiling levels. The disdain she still harbored for that girl so many years later was _unbelievable_. She felt herself begin to shake and the dull pound in her head become louder with the feelings of such pure hatred and anger. "What the hell are you talking about?" She growled angrily. Confused.

Gerald smirked; he'd gotten a reaction from his little lie, "I'm sorry, is that a sore spot for you?" He paused, expecting a response. When he saw that he wasn't going to get one, he continued, "I found Lila and had a little conversation with her. They had been spending time with each other prior to his death. I was just wondering if that played a factor. You know… he'd had enough of your chaos and it drove him back into Lila's awaiting arms, but…you found out."

Arnold and Lila. Their names in the same sentence plunged her into a darker hole of rage. Surely steam was erupting from her ears by now at just the _idea_ of them…_together_. She tried not to picture them, but she failed miserably, and the image made her wickedly spiteful. She felt like strangling the perky bitch, or anybody else nearby for frustrations sake.

She froze.

Gerald watched her intently. He could see the gears in her head, chugging along in overdrive, attempting to piece this together. She physically looked like she could spontaneously combust at any moment. Phoebe's outsmarting idea seemed to be on course.

"That had to be hard," He continued the charade "Knowing that you were losing him back to the woman that was better than you in the first place. Maybe a little _too_ hard to handle…?"

Her igniting anger bubble imploded on itself, leaving her with something less than settling. Her stomach began feeling sick and her eyes felt as if they were going to regurgitate their salty liquid at anytime.

"Just tell me," Gerald requested, using a softer tone than he normally did with her, "Just tell me that the gun was yours. Just tell me that it was a fit of rage."

She shook her head, tightly squeezing her eyes to prevent the water from leaking out. She had had ample amounts of time to prepare a witty comment to spit back in his self righteous face but had failed to do so. The unsettling feelings that had crept into her emotional being had rendered her helpless in controlling the direction of the conversation. This was unfamiliar and dangerous territory for her.

Gerald recoiled back from the table, running his large hands over his cleanly shaven head before taking in a deep and aggravated breath of air, "Dammit Helga!" He groaned, "Did you stand there and watch him struggle?! Did you watch him fight to breath?! Did you see him finally suffocate on his own blood too? Did you even care at all?!"

Her mouth suddenly dried out, feeling like a desert during a horrific drought. Her brain and tongue coordination had completely lost connection with each other. Gerald's words bounced back and forth against the walls of her skull, syncing with the pounding of the blood running through the vessels in her head.

_My God…_

She wished she hadn't heard that.

"I can't think…" She hoped that's what she'd said, and not gibberish. Her tongue felt too numb to wield properly, her mouth too dry, and her ears were too muted by the pounding in her head and the scrambling of her own thoughts to even hear if it came out alright.

"How can you live with yourself knowing that you destroyed him? Knowing that you destroyed his family?! Just come clean for God's sake!" She heard his voice say through the static noise clogging her ears.

She couldn't help but note the bitter irony of his last sentence. 'Just come clean!' There she sat, in a facility, purging her body of the poisoned nirvana she'd been dumping into it for years for a squeaky clean readmission into society. On top of that, here he was, demanding her to take some disinfectant to her conscience. Two for the price of one, _what a deal_.

His eyes narrowed into thin slits, "He was my friend…" He began in a very low voice. "...he was all of ours friend!"

Standing abruptly, she began pacing the room. Her head was splitting open with a panging ache as she felt the rise of acid in the back of her throat. She felt like she could puke at anytime and her eyes felt sore and raw from holding back the tears for _so_ long. So much so, that it stung to blink too much. Whether it was 100 percent because of the sudden surge of emotions or her current depleted health, she couldn't say, but she did know how excruciating it felt.

These games with Gerald were becoming more and more agonizing with every visit. He was becoming more persistent. She was becoming…more disoriented. He'd built armor against her snarky comments. He'd supplied himself with a better arsenal, wielding unknown weapons at her. She, on the other hand, just deployed her last smoke bomb trying to protect her crumbling castle.

A very scary revelation had illuminated itself to her during this intense session with him today. One that she had never tried so hard never to think about but one that she doubted she could ever _not_ think about again.

"You want to know the truth?" She finally blurted out, turning back around to face him.

Gerald nodded, reaching into his pocket and placing the recorder he always brought with him onto the table. He pressed the Red Circle button with the sole of his thumb. "Yeah, I do."

Helga closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, that's that for this chapter. Just couldn't get it to turn out exactly the way I wanted no matter how many times I reworked it. Please don't judge too harshly. Sorry for not updating sooner either. Life can be pretty busy at times unfortunately. Thanks again to those who have been reviewing and reading period. Means a lot to me. This story still has a little ways to go so I hope you guys don't get bored with it.


	11. Here in my Room

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**Here In My Room**

"Wake me till the morning after,

I'm so tired,

There has got to be an end,

To the pain I feel,

When I'm awake and alive." -Linkin Park (Morning After)

* * *

"You want to know the truth?" She finally blurted out, turning back around to face him.

Gerald nodded, reaching into his pocket and placing the recorder he'd always brought with him onto the table. He pressed the Red Circle button with the sole of his thumb. "Yeah, I do."

Helga closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. The salty mixture of tears surrounding her eyeballs were becoming too much for her eye lids to contain any further. With the sudden onslaught of raw emotion coursing through her body she knew when she reopened her eyes they were going to dump their fluid right down her face. She didn't want to cry. She was _so_ tired of crying. She couldn't believe she even had anything _left_ to cry. But as drained as she was of crying, it paled in comparison to her overall mental exhaustion.

Gerald was still waiting, and she knew she had to say something soon. She opened her eyelids, feeling the cool air hit her inflamed eyeballs again before feeling the thick wet streams begin to course down the sides of her face.

"Gerald, I…I honestly don't know," She sniffed, pulling her shirt sleeve down over her hand and whipping her eyes with it.

He rolled his eyes, "I've really had about en—"

"-I don't know! And that's the truth," She lambasted, "There are periods in my life that are just a…complete… _blackout_. I have drunk and taken so many drugs at times that I've completely lost days."

"That's so _very_ convenient," He scoffed.

She crossed the room ignoring him while running her hands through her hair, the tears continuing to stream down her face with no signs of stopping, "I wake up and people tell me these things that I've done and I have _no clue_ when they happened or why I'd even do it. Really, who knows what I'm capable of."

Helga went silent for a few seconds and stopped pacing. She stared at the floor through blurred vision, chewing over what she was about to say. There was no good way to admit something you didn't want to admit, and help certainly wasn't going to appear in the carpet beneath her feet. No matter how long she gazed at it.

She finally tilted her head in Gerald's direction, "I don't know what I could have been capable of like that...like this. Angry, confused, hurt, intoxicated, high…_jealous!_ All rolled into one horrific bad trip. I'm _not_ a very nice person!"

She wiped her face off with her sleeve once again, "I think I have an idea now though. I'm at the point now where… I don't put anything past myself. And neither should you," Dropping her head in defeat she sighed, the tears still continuing to spill over her eyelids like a broken dam, "So, you do what you need to do Gerald because I really can't help you. I can't even help myself."

She gulped hard, swallowing a large chunk of bile, "I…have to go, I feel like I'm going to be sick…" She briskly exited the room, hoping dearly that he wouldn't follow her. She needed to be _alone._

She hadn't told him everything she knew. Quite deliberately of course. She had one last major piece to tell him, and she would later. She just needed a little bit of time alone. Though she hadn't been completely fourth coming with information, she felt that she had been honest with him. She really _didn't know_. As it turned out, she discovered that she didn't know more than she thought.

* * *

Gerald sighed, clicking the stop button on his recorder after she left. He wasn't quite sure what to make of the session with her. It had started out on a normal note for the two of them. Helga being a snarky, sarcastic pain in the ass and he pushing all of her buttons as far as he could. His Lila con had indeed evoked a severe reaction out of her. An almost a complete personality change. He made a mental note to graciously thank Phoebe later for her suggestion.

_However,_ he still wasn't quite sure what to make of what she'd told him. Was that her own little way of confessing? She hadn't really given him anything to work with. It almost seemed like she'd just 'Okayed' it for him to pursue her as the prime suspect.

When Gerald exited the visiting room, he didn't see her anywhere in the lobby and assumed that she'd already returned to her room after her hasty exit. He wanted to go find her and continue drilling her brain for more information, but he knew he had to go make sense of what she'd just told him first. She wasn't going anywhere, after all. How _could _she?

He stepped out into the brisk air, filling his lungs with its coolness. It felt freeing after being in that rather intense situation in the tiny guest room. He made his way to his car, ducking into it and starting the engine, not really sure of what he wanted his destination to be. He probably had a few hours before Phoebe got home to sift through Helga's recording.

He felt terrible for always bringing this stuff home with him. Home is where one goes to get away from work. That case was _so_ personal though, he couldn't get away from it _even_ if he tried. He slept, ate and drank this case anymore. Not to mention Phoebe _had_ been a better investigator with him than guys he'd worked with that were trained. That thought settled it for him. He'd go home, mull over his collected data until Phoebe arrived, and then he'd pick her brain about it. One way or another, he was going to figure out what Helga's angle was, because everything felt terribly unfinished.

* * *

Helga stared at herself in the mirror. It frightened her to see the withered being looking back at her. This wasn't her. This creature looked like it used to be her at one time, but that was long ago. She sighed heavily remember thing things she had to do, before she made a phone call tonight that would cancel out any kind of future that she would have. Right now, in this moment, she was perfectly fine with that. She'd been dancing around in this particular party for long enough now. And maybe, deep down, in that tattered black heart of hers, this is exactly what she'd wanted all along.

She was definitely _sick. _

She turned and exited the bathroom, her vision still significantly blurred with moister. She wiped the wetness from them as best as she could to no avail. They were like a pair sinking ship. The water would not stop coming. Zombing over to her bed she sat down on the mattress slowly in a delicate manner. Reaching a shaking hand for the telephone she fumbled the receiver off of the cradle, bringing it to her ear and dialed in the one of two numbers that she knew by heart.

It rang.

It rang.

It rang.

Voicemail.

She sighed, waiting for the beep.

* * *

Sitting on his couch, staring at the same photos, the same papers, he sighed. The same stuff he'd been staring at for weeks now. Nothing new that was for sure. He couldn't help but feel that the playing field had changed though. The atmosphere had evolved into something else. On the drive home he kept asking himself why he'd allow her to end the conversation there. Why had he allowed her to run away from the fight as she usually did. Maybe perhaps, it was because he had truly seen something break in her eyes today.

Something extinguished. Something…_died_.

She was tired, he knew that much. He was tired too. This battle of willpower was coming to a head, and he felt he was winning.

He heard the front door to his home creak open, realizing then that he'd been staring at the same piece of paper for half an hour now. Phoebe glided into the room, setting her purse and bag on the table.

"Hey!" She greeted him cheerfully.

"Hey!" Gerald replied, "You're home early."

She laughed, "Did you fall asleep? Its 5:45. I always get out of the lab at 5:00 on Fridays."

Chuckling, he smiled and nodded his head, "Right."

* * *

Helga sat on her bed quietly brooding at the floor. The one person that she wanted to talk to wasn't answering their phone. They certainly weren't making this _easy_ for her. She'd been sitting here for over an hour and her frustration was reaching its critical level.

"Why couldn't you have for once just done what _you_ wanted instead of worrying about everybody else's feelings? Instead of worrying about me!" She yelled at the ceiling, "It was foolish of you to ever believe that we could fit. It was foolish of us! I've always only hurt you!"

"I killed you...didn't I?" She murmured.

She left the bed, trudging into the bathroom once more and stared at herself in the mirror for the millionth time. As before she was absolutely disgusted with what she saw, although she kept hoping that she would see at least one redeeming quality about herself. The only thing that stared back was a selfish prat that ruined the lives of everybody she came in contact with.

She caused her parents and sister turmoil by being an obnoxious, arrogant troublemaker, she was considered scum by society; she'd ruined Sender from birth simply because the child was cursed to have her as a mother and she'd managed to kill the love of her life.

She. _Helga G. Pataki._

While she had _no_ memory of it, she was fairly certain that Arnold hadn't any enemies. Not that she would have ever have _wanted_ to hurt him, but it was very likely that _she did._

He had trusted _her_, had loved _her_, and had believed in _them._

And she had ruined it.

She started to hyperventilate at that very thought. Her heart beat wildly out of control and she felt the thick bile building painfully in the back of her throat. The tears began to dump from her eyes and the most pained groan tumbled out of her aching throat.

She had killed him. She had to have.

_There was nobody else. _

Before she realized what was happening, she felt her hand colliding with the smooth glass of the mirror, shattering the image of herself in all different directions. Bits and pieces of the reflective scrap tumbled to the floor by her feet with a sharp clatter.

She slowly pulled her fist back, examining her knuckles in wonder. Small but deep slices slashed all different directions on the tips of her knuckles. Blood was beginning to pour out of them but curiously, she felt no pain from the lacerations.

Removing her eyes from her hand, she returned her blurred stare to the broken mirror before her, still breathing heavily. Her gaze settled upon a chunk of sharp glass, the length of a pencil cocked forward on the mirror. Reaching up, she tugged on it delicately, popping it loose from the rest of the shattered glass, holding it in her hand she stared at, suddenly becoming much calmer.

Her breathing slowed, and her tears, while still running, felt a slight let up. She stared at it, sniffing back the fluid in her face.

This piece of glass could be the key. It could do away with every bit of her suffering. Her future was fixing to cancel, but it _could_ be on her _own terms._

The mere idea burnt like wildfire through her mind. It should have repulsed her. She should have frowned at the idea, but she didn't.

_It didn't_ turn her off. In fact, the ecstasy it left behind was mouth watering.

_No jail._ The idea emerged. _No addiction. No battles. No hurt. _

She could get way from all of this. Forever.

Seven years. Seven years she'd wondered. Seven years she'd been running away. Seven years she'd lived in constant agony.

She focused her eyes in again after briefly zoning out in thought, clutching the glass a little sturdier. Sucking in a deep breath she raked the sharp piece up the inside of her right arm, clenching her jaw in pain.

She watched her flesh tear apart into two ragged pieces and her rich red blood spew out.

Yes. This was _her_ way out.

Out of her pain. Out of her responsibility. Out of her hell.

She dropped the glass to the floor, looking around as the blood from her arm began spilling onto the floor tiles. She knew she didn't have much time but she did need to make one last phone call.

While she would have loved to have left his self righteous ass hanging, she felt the slightest twinge of guilt about it. He had worked rather hard on this case to not be informed of the one piece of information that she _did_ know. Besides, why would she care, she'd be gone.

She dragged herself back into the room towards the bed, leaving a smearing red trail behind her. She grabbed the receiver with her left hand, punching in one last number that was written on the notepad paper that Bob had been _so kind_ to throw into the last box of stuff he'd sent her.

It rang.

It rang.

It rang.

And it went to voicemail.

She waited, hearing his personalized voicemail message and the beep.

Sighing, she sniffed back the tears, "I did steal my father's gun from his shop. It has his store initials engraved on it."

She hung up. Gerald could find his closure. If it was there, which it probably was, then he would find it.

She was finding hers.

Stumbling woozily from the bed she attempted to wobble back to the bathroom but realized, she just wasn't going to make it that far though and collapsed onto the floor about half way. The smell of iron was all around her. She dropped her head down in a damp spot from her earlier travels to the bed. It still felt warm.

The world around her was becoming slowed down. She liked it. She wished everybody well. She hoped they wouldn't mourn her long, or at all. Olga would say, "She seemed fine when I saw her," But deep down she'd realize that she'd always known _something_ bad would happen. Her Father would say, "Good riddance," And her Mother would likely remain opinion-less, as always. Friends who truly knew her would probably say that they were surprised that she lasted as long as she did. Whether accident or intentional.

Her parents would tell Sender that her Mother had become ill and just didn't make it through. Or something to the effect. Her young, innocent, and unknowing mind would believe it, not yet understanding the true evils in the world. Perhaps they'd tell her the truth when she became older, or she'd just find out on her own. In a way, Helga hoped that Sender would one day come to hate her. At least then she wouldn't get bogged down longing to have her back or thinking that she was somehow missing something in her life. She wasn't overly worried about her daughter turning out like her either, there was just too much natural good in the girl that Helga had never really possessed, and that thought alone put her a ease with leaving her baby.

And then she felt an odd peacefulness wash over her. Like being light as a feather. Her vision was blurring. Her hearing was totally gone. She could hear, on the inside, her breaths, and her heart beat becoming slower.

_This is it_. She thought.

* * *

**A/N:** Long time since I updated. To be fair it took awhile to write this chapter. And I've been busy. I thought long and hard about this one. I've progressed Helga to this point because, while I don't think she has a suicidal personality, I truly believe that sometimes people can get blow, after blow after blow until they finally just give up. So, I think at this point in her life, she's been thoroughly kicked around, particularly by Gerald as of lately, and has just reached a rock bottom breaking point. Plus she truly believes that she killed Arnold. Maybe she did, maybe she didn't. Story has still got a ways to go with her.


	12. Halfstate

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

**A/N:** First off I really, really want to thank everybody who keeps up with this story. I know I'm very VERY slow updating it and I apologize from the bottom of my heart about that. Just know that no matter how long I go between updates, this story is never abandoned or forgotten. Also, in the next few chapters some LONG overdue question are going to get answered, which, will hopefully make some things make more sense. Anywho, on with it!

* * *

**Half State**

"Will you walk me,

To the edge again,

Shaking, lonely, and I am drinking again,

Woke up tonight and no one's here with me,

I'm giving in to you,

Take me under." -Adema (Giving In)

* * *

_This is it. _She thought.

She blinked slowly, the need to breathe feeling less prevalent now. She heard some thumps, like footsteps maybe, but she couldn't be sure. Pulling her tired and heavy eyelids open on last time she stared at this cream colored orb in front of her.

_What is that?_ She thought.

The thing appeared hyper, it kept moving, up, down, close, far away, and it even disappeared once. Soon the cream colored ball thing became two cream colored balls, and then three, all hovering above her.

She then felt herself being lifted up, and she closed her eyes.

Everything went black.

* * *

"All right, I'm going to get her up, grab her arm if it moves," A male employ of the rehab center barked urgently. On his knees he reached up under Helga limp form, hooking his arms under her knees and her head, grimacing at the blood that smeared all over his chest and shirt sleeves.

As he stood, Jessica kept Helga's right arm firmly planted up on her chest to prevent it from sliding off. "God there's so much blood!" She said frantically.

The guy adjusted her in his arms in order to get a better grip before hurriedly marching out of the room. The ever jolly receptionist stood in the doorway with a hand firmly clamped over her mouth in disbelief and her brows practically engulfing her hairline. Things like that weren't _suppose_ to happen there. It was a place of bodily healing, not destruction.

Not that night.

A crowd of curious patients had formed in the hallway, lured out of their rooms by the sheer panic and commotion. The man emerged from the room into the hallway, greeted with gasps as he jogged to the stairs, visibly relieved to see that an EMT in a white outfit and latex gloves was running towards him with a medical bag.

The EMT told him to follow him back down the stairs and he saw at the bottom a another EMT in white with a stretcher.

"She slashed her right arm," He told them as he lay her down on the gurney.

The two EMTs strapped her down, and placed a tunicate around her upper right arm to stem the blood flow to her wound and a breath pack on her face. The crowd had moved to the top of the stairs to watch the scene, peering down in wonder as the EMTs wasted no time in getting her out the door and into an awaiting ambulance.

Time was of the essence.

* * *

They had her on a gurney with a million things hooked to her body. A tunicate was wrapped so tightly around her arm that it would have probably turned it blue, had she not have left most of her blood on the floor in her room.

A man dressed in white with a white mask dug through the bloody mess of her arm with a tweezers like device, twisting and clamping.

"I've steamed the vessel. Get the transfusion going," He replied

Several nasty sounding alarms began crying angrily, "Her blood pressure just plummeted!"

"Heart rate is decreasing!"

* * *

As fast as everything went black she found herself opening her eyes just as quickly. Like the way being put under anesthesia feels. Just a blink. She peered around her surroundings, bewilderment placating her features. She was in a theater; it was moodily lit with featureless people all around her.

Down below, a show was being performed, the actors flamboyantly moving around the stage. She squinted because she could hardly make out their faces from where she sat and at that point, she really had no idea what was going on.

Where was she? How did she get there? Was everything a dream? Was she dead?

What about being in rehab? Had that been a dream too?

Before she could make out the actors faces, the velvet red curtain dropped on the stage. The people around her all stood and began clapping. Looking around frantically, she noted the period clothing the people around her were dressed in.

Something was definitely _not right._

The heavy velvet curtain pulled up from the stage to reveal the actors in a line. They began bowing at the audience and waving in admiration.

Her eyes scanned the figures below frantically searching for something that made sense. She gasped, grabbing the rail in front of her row and pulling herself out of the seat. One by one her mind began mentally labeling these actors with names. Olga, Grant, Bob, Miriam, Sender, Gerald, Phoebe, Sid, Aubrey…

…Arnold.

Her hand white knuckled the wooden rail.

He bowed once more before lifting slowly, his eyes crawling up the balconies till they rested on hers. He didn't seem shocked that she was there as the corners of his lips curved into a perfect smile. Lifting his hand he motioned her down with his index finger.

There was something other worldly and seductive about the action. She felt a force tugging her chest towards him. A force that she was powerless to resist it…as if she ever could. She turned and began to walk down the row, never breaking her eye contact with him. The people around her seemed to have vanished. It was just him and her. It didn't seem strange, but at the same time, nothing could have been the stranger.

She descended the aisle steps with a grace she wasn't typically accustomed to. Gliding up the stage stairs, Arnold closed the gap between him and her. His arms snaked around her and his lips found hers with urgency. She melted into his embrace, attempting to quench a thirst for him that she'd had for so long.

At that point, she knew she _had _to be dying.

He broke the kiss, too soon for her, and pulled her into him. Her head rested against his chest comfortably. Amazingly enough, he felt right, he smelled right, just as she remembered, and he was warm. He felt so real to her.

God her imagination was impressive.

"I'm so sorry. I've missed you so much," She whispered.

"I know."

She suddenly felt their bodily contact cease and he pulled away from her completely. Startled, she whipped her head up, seeing him fleeting behind the stage curtains.

"Arnold?" She beckoned in confusion.

Where was he going? Why was he running away from her?

Hearing no response, she skipped towards the curtains. Grabbing the folds between her hands she ripped the velvet to the side, searching for the opening. She sifted through the folds, panicked that she would never get through them. Finally finding the edge of the curtain she tore it back, expecting to see the theater's back stage.

Only not.

Her eyes widened. There was a dessert. A baron sandy dessert with cactus, bare wood and tumble weeds. She didn't have time to absorb it all before she quickly spotted Arnold walking through the sand towards the horizon. She began jogging after him, mentally noting how quick he was, no matter how fast she just couldn't seem to catch up with him.

It felt like hours that she followed him, never seeming to close the gap.

She stopped jogging through what had become a baron dessert when she saw him stop walking. He was staring at the horizon. She stared too as she slowly walked up behind him. It wasn't merely a sunset with deep purples, oranges and yellow, but much more beautiful than that. It looked to be of a whole other world.

She slowly walked up beside Arnold, never peeling her eyes away from the magical place that looked entirely approachable.

"Beautiful isn't it?" He asked in a honey smooth tone.

"What is it?"

"Home," He smiled warmly at her.

Arnold stepped forward and turned, offering his outstretched hand for her to take. Helga gazed at his handsome face noting the contentment it held. The sureness it possessed. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and she outstretched her own hand to grasp his.

Her hand gently brushed across his palm and she felt his fingers slowly begin to curl around it tenderly. Her hand had always fit so perfectly in his. The two of them had always fit together. They were like two breathing puzzle pieces, despite what anybody said.

Suddenly the ground that he was standing upon wrenched open violently. Arnold jerked his hand from Helga's grasp and flung both arms in the air, trying to maintain his balance. Helga desperately grabbed for him as he fell into the deep crack that had spliced the desert floor in two. She dropped to her knees and screamed his name as she watched him plummet into a white light.

She hurriedly stood up and looked around. She had to go after him. She couldn't cross into that horizon without him. She just knew she couldn't.

Inhaling a large breath of air and putting one foot over the edge and she began allowing gravity to take its claim over her momentum.

"Mommy?"

She turned in a split second and saw her young daughter looking up at her with confused eyes, but couldn't stop the momentum. She couldn't. Gravity pulled her hard in a desperate attempt to digest her into its bowels. Her arm instinctively flew towards the ledge of the crack when her feet felt solid ground no more.

Both of her hands clutched the hard sandy ledge and her body smacked against the wall with a brutal thud. With all of her might she tried to pull up but couldn't muster the strength. It seemed that she was stuck hanging there.

"Sender!" She beckoned.

She cocked her head upwards trying to see, only to gasp when she saw the person staring back at her. It wasn't her 6 year old confused little girl anymore. She was a very disgruntled looking 15 year old-ish teenager.

She didn't have to to think about why, her fingers were beginning to throb to badly, "Help me please," Helga desperately begged.

"I'm not helping you," Sender coldly laughed and knelt down beside her mother's white knuckled hands that gripped the ledge, leaning over to peer down at her, "When did you ever think about me? Besides, this is what you want."

Helga clenched her teeth, peering down at her dangling feet, praying for her fingers not to give way, "I did what I thought was best."

Sender clapped, "Oh you are _so_ considerate!" She then spat, "As usual, you do what you think is best for _you_."

Helga snapped her gaze back to her daughter; hurt momentarily overriding the agonizing pain she was in, "Sender, I loved you. I _still_ love you. I do..."

"You _never_ loved me _Helga,_" Sender bit out her mother's name in the same tone that Helga always said 'Bob' in, and it burned her up to hear it, "You resented me," She continued, "I could always see it in your eyes when you looked at me. I just never knew what it was."

"I never—"

"-I'm the thorn in your side, admit it. I'm the thorn that you got _stuck_ with. I just got in the way of what you _really_ loved: the drugs, the alcohol and him!" Sender angrily pointed into the deep crack.

"Sender," Helga wheezed, the pain in her arms almost unbearable now, "You _aren't_ a thorn in my side. I…I'm my own thorn. _You are_ the _best_ _thing_ that ever happened to me."

The most agonizing pain she'd ever felt ripped through her right forearm causing her to scream out in agony. A thick sheet of bright red blood rushed down her limb out of the gaping slash that appeared on her arm.

"So that's why you couldn't wait to just... abandon me? The sad thing is: no matter _what_ you've _ever _done, no matter _how_ you've ever _looked_ at me, I still love _you_. I can't ever resent you and I can't ever hate you. Because you're mine. You're _my mom_."

Helga clenched her teeth, sucking in the pain in her arm and peered up over the edge, expecting to see a pissed off teen. Instead she saw her innocent 6 year old once again peering back at her with hope.

And suddenly. Just maybe. She didn't want to die after all. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

"No…" She answered, "No…no…I won't do this to you."

With all the strength she could muster, she began trying to pull herself up onto the ledge.

"Oh… come… _on_!" A voice boomed.

Glancing up again, she saw her Father standing beside her daughter, a disgusted smirk sitting happily on his face, "Can't you just go peacefully? The world would be better off!"

"Don't listen to him," Sender urgently said, in a much more mature sounding voice than she would have been capable of.

"Fuck off _Bob._" Helga muttered, continuing to worm her way back onto the ledge.

Bob only bellowed in laughter, "You know, dysfunctional isn't even a strong enough word. They need a whole new word to describe you!" He continued laughing like a hyena, "There is no such thing as a happy ending for a person like you! Why are you even bothering?"

"Because we all have choices."

"_Your_ choice will hurt everybody around you. You are a burden to them."

"That's not true!" Sender glared at him.

"Oh it is true," Bob interrupted, "You are a terrible, pathetic excuse for a human being! A murdering, drunk, drug-addict is what you are!"

Helga ignored him, continuing to wiggle her way back up out of the crevice. She was so weak and tired and it felt like gravity was much stronger than it should have been.

"You crawl out of that hole, you go to jail for the rest of your life," Bob echoed.

"You don't know that!" The youngest blonde countered.

Her dad crouched down, titling his head at her curiously, "Why not just die? Get it over with. Take the coward's way out. Go on! Nobody will think any less of you than they already do."

"Bob…" Helga groaned tiredly, "...go to hell."

She screwed her eyes shut and with one final heave, she pulled herself up over the ledge and out of the crevice and collapsed on her stomach.

Everything went black for the second time.

* * *

Two rounded rectangular irons were placed on her open chest hurriedly by the doctor. Several different beeping sounds could be heard over top of the flat chime of the heart monitor.

"Clear!" He shouted.

Her body convulsed and collapsed. The chime continued as he stared at the monitors around him.

"Again!" he barked.

A volt charged, clicked and her body convulsed a second time.

The doctor stared wishfully at the monitor in front of him.

The chime continued. The green line kept running and running and running..and…

* * *

**A/N:** I've wanted to write this chapter for awhile. Free time eludes me quite frequently unfortunately. Anywho, I hope reviews aren't terrible. It's not the best but I've been really wanting to have Helga face her problems in her subconscious and ultimately went the route of 'angel vs devil' thing with Sender and Bob as her conscience figures via dreams. I feel like she is kind of trapped in her own head most of the time anyway so it seems natural that she'd deal with decisions that way.


	13. Always A Catch

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**Always a Catch**

"Another un-innocent, elegant falls,

Into the un-magnificent lives of adults,

Make up something to believe,

In your heart of hearts,

So you have something to wear,

On your sleeve of sleeve." -The National (Mistaken for Strangers)

* * *

As Phoebe typically liked to do on Fridays after work, which Gerald would _never _understand why one would do that too themselves, she stopped by the grocery store and did their weekly shopping. He'd helped her unload the bags from her car, setting them on the counters to be put away before slouching into a chair at their counter to begin watching her un-bag everything. Not that he wasn't willing to help, he'd love too, but she had a particularly way of organizing their food and preferred to do it herself.

He kept out of her way.

"How are you?" She asked, putting away some vegetables in the fridge.

Gerald grunted, cracking his knuckles, "Weird."

She gave him a sideways glance as she continued shuffling around things in the fridge.

He caught her eyes and shrugged, "Well…I am."

Phoebe stepped back and huffed, glaring disapprovingly into the fridge, "This weekend we need to clean this out."

Gerald nodded in agreement, though not truly caring at the moment about the contents of his ice box. His mind was elsewhere.

"She told me today."

Phoebe snapped her head in his direction, eyes wide with curiosity and shock. "And?"

"And…I'm more confused than ever," He exhaled in a defeat, "Her eyes were so, so empty Phoebe. One minute they were full of…of rage and hatred and…life and the next…blank."

Phoebe abandoned the remaining few groceries that needed proper storage, fully engrossed in what Gerald had to say.

"What did she tell you?"

"That's just it, she didn't tell me _anything_. Nothing that I didn't already know," He shook his head.

Phoebe drew back, crossing her arms over her chest, "I'm a little confused about—"

"-You're confused, _I'm_ confused!"

He held his hand up as he wished to continue, "I lied to her."

"About what?"

"Well, I did what you said and tried to 'outsmart' her," He eplained, "I told her that I found out he was leaving her for Lila."

Phoebe's eyes grew to an enormous size for the second time in the last few minutes, "You used _Lila_?" She asked in disbelief.

Gerald nodded, crossing his arms over his chest, "It was the only thing I could think of that would _potentially_ set her off," He reasoned, "Phoebe, she _hates_ that girl and that hatred hasn't dissolved _one bit_ since we were kids."

Phoebe let out a breath of air and leaned against the counter top, "So, what happened then? Did she explode?"

Gerald nodded, "Yeah, but not in the way I had expected though. It looked liked she _wanted_ to, and then...I don't know. It was as if _something_ occurred to her."

A trebley toned melody of tunes came stomping through the kitchen, perking Gerald's attention and he spun around and exited the room. Phoebe recognized it as his cell phone and he reemerged back into the kitchen seconds later with his phone to his ear and flopped back down at the counter, shooting a glance at Phoebe, "Voice mail," He mouthed.

Phoebe nodded and decided to take the few moments and put away the last couple grocery items. Grabbing the few boxes and cans she walked to the pantry and began placing them in their respective spots on shelves. She had just placed the last can in when she heard a hasty shuffling and stomping behind her.

She twirled around frantically, seeing her boyfriend fleeing the kitchen in a panic, "Gerald?" She cried.

Not getting a reply she scurried out of the kitchen in the same direction that he had bolted.

"Son of a bitch!" She heard him yell as she skipped into the living room. His back was towards her, and he was hunkered over their table examining something.

"Gerald?" She beckoned again.

He turned around, reveling that he held a pistol. She recognized it quite immediately; it'd been hanging around their house for months now.

"Big Bob's Beepers."

The raven haired woman glanced at the gun and then to him.

"The initials B.B.B. Big Bob's Beepers. This is hers!" He motioned to the gun he held.

Phoebe gasped, "That was her then?"

"Yeah," Gerald nodded, "She left the message."

Phoebe collapsed down in a nearby chair, a bit shell shocked. She shook her head, trying to make sense of everything. "I can't believe this…"

She glanced at Gerald, who by now had started to pace around their living room. Her best friend (former of course) had seemingly killed his best friend. It couldn't be. It couldn't possibly be. Sure, Helga Pataki wasn't the most pleasant and mild mannered human being to ever walk the planet, _far _from it in fact, but a murderer?

Phoebe suddenly felt incredibly foolish. She felt foolish for upholding even a modest amount of loyalty to the girl. For trying to reason with the theories of the man pacing before her.

How could Helga have? How could she have done that?

It was no secret to anyone that Helga's sun rose and set on Arnold.

It just didn't make sense to her.

"I'm going over there," Gerald's voice broke her concentration. Snapping her head up she saw him at their coat hanger, slipping on a heavy jacket sleeve by sleeve.

"Why?" She inquired, "What's there left to say?"

Gerald snorted, shaking his head, "She is _not_ just going to leave me a cowardly voice mail. I want to hear it from her face before I call this in."

He grabbed his keys off of the coffee table and made his way to the front door.

"I'll come with you," Phoebe bolted from the chair she'd fallen into and rushed towards the coat hanger.

Gerald paused, watching her grab her coat and fling it over her body, "Phoebe, you don't have-"

"-You shouldn't be alone in a moment like this."

Truthfully, she was afraid he might do something he would regret. His voice sounded a tad too erratic for her to trust him alone. No, it wasn't that Gerald Johanssen had a history of unpredictability, and she felt a twinge of guilt in the pit of her stomach for thinking him such, but the circumstances were of special consideration. He was clouded by anger, and hurt.

She couldn't blame him though. She was rather overwhelmed herself.

Of course, she hadn't near the emotional investment he had in all of this. But any news of this magnitude would rock most people's foundation.

He didn't say anything else about her accompanying him to the center. As much as he wanted to go by himself, he was grateful not to have to be alone. She followed him out of their house, closing and locking the front door behind her. They both hopped in his personal car and headed off down the street.

* * *

The ride had been a quiet one, neither Phoebe nor Gerald felt the need to fill the silence with conversation. There could have been tons to talk about, but, as Phoebe had said, was their anything left to say? Both were rattled in their own way.

Gerald's eyes remained fixated on the pavement in front of him the entire way drive. He barely saw the road, he was too trapped in his thoughts. He could taste the disgust in his mouth. It tasted bitter-sweet washing all over him.

As he turned onto the street corner of the building his eyes engulfed with the flashing of dozens of red and blue flashing lights.

"What the hell?" He hissed under his breath.

He pulled cautiously to the curb in front, gazing around at the unit cars. A foreboding feeling had emerged in the pit of his stomach. One he wished to ignore for the sake of sanity at the moment. He put the car in park.

"Stay here." Opening the car door, he exited and briskly began walking up through the open gates. Walking past several unit cars he skipped up the steps to the front double doors. Gerald walked in, seeing a crowd of people everywhere and that feeling in his stomach magnified 10 fold.

He began walking towards the reception area where the stairs were located.

"Sir! I'm going to need to stay back," His arm was grabbed.

Gerald turned to see an officer he didn't recognize holding his upper arm. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his own badge and flashed it.

"It's okay," Gerald reassured.

The officer nodded and released his arm. "Upstairs," He pointed.

Gerald snapped his head in the direction of the stairs, returning his badge to his pocket. "Thanks!" He called, hurriedly walking towards the area the officer had pointed.

He skipped up the stairs, taking two at a time until he had reached the second floor. People where everywhere down the hall, chatting and pointing.

What the hell was going on?

He kept walking, following the people down to an open door on the left. He saw the receptionist standing near the doorway, staring in absently.

Gerald walked past her, entering into the unknown room. His breath hitched and he stopped cold in his tracks. His eyes focused on the huge blood stain in the middle of the room. He could see a light on in the bathroom and some shattered glass lying on the floor.

But the blood. There was just so much of it.

He whipped around and eyeballed the receptionist. "Who…Whose room is this?"

She jumped, looking at him questioningly.

"Whose is it?" He demanded more forcefully. He didn't have time for games.

"Ms. Pataki…" She whispered.

Gerald clutched the door frame with his hand. Her words were barely audible but it felt like he'd been sucker punched. He looked back at the blood and then to the woman again.

"What happened?" He breathed, surprising himself at how even toned he was.

The receptionist opened her mouth, anguish washing over her features as she shook her head, "She tried to kill herself," She whispered again.

All the breath left Gerald's body. That foreboding feeling in the pit of his gut spread its way up into his chest, clutching him with its icy grip. He couldn't breathe. He had a million emotions coursing through is veins, and a million different thoughts darting across the inside of his skull.

_Always chasing her_. He was always just one step behind. All she did was manipulate him. And if she couldn't beat him then she would just hide. Forever.

Oh, he felt like he could combust.

Anger.

Anger rose above all other emotions.

He subconsciously began balling his hands into fists. _How dare she_, He thought. How dare she try to take the easy way out.

"No!" He yelled into the room, causing the people around him to jump.

"Goddammit no!" He shouted again and tore out of the scene and down the hall way, leaving a bewildered crowd behind him.

He didn't see anybody or anything, only the path in front of him. He burst out of the front doors, not caring that they slammed against the brick wall on either side. He continued marching down the stairs, and down the path towards his car.

God help anybody, if they got in his way.

Phoebe saw him blazing down the sidewalk towards their car through her window. The harden expression on his face said everything.

Something bad had happened.

Gerald rounded the car and yanked open the driver's door like he was hijacking the vehicle. He flopped in with a huff and slammed the door shut.

"Gerald, what's wrong?" Phoebe exasperated.

The raging man acted as if he didn't hear the small woman beside him. He grabbed the steering wheel with both hands, squeezing the rim and then letting it go, flexing his finger muscles.

"Gerald!" Phoebe yelled.

"She's gone!"

Phoebe shook her head in confusing, "What do you mean—"

"-She tried to kill herself." He gripped the steering wheel once more and let out a guttural howl of aggravation.

Phoebe turned away from him, staring back out of the window towards the building and flashing lights.

"…Is she dead?"

"I don't know!" He snapped.

He immediately felt terribly for speaking to Phoebe in that tone. He had never ever spoken to her that way before. He didn't have time to dwell and he promised himself that he would make it up to her later.

Running a head roughly over his shaven head, he turned the car on and slammed it in reverse. Phoebe jumped in surprise, looking around as he U-turned in the street.

"Gerald, where are we going?" She asked, wide eyed and more than a little frantic.

"The hospital," He replied, "I've got to know…"

* * *

A frantic blonde woman tore through a set of double doors in a hallway, the wind from her speed whipping her locks over her shoulders, and a face strained with distraught and runny mascara. A brown haired man skipped along behind her with an expression of worry equivalent to her own.

She rounded a few corners, left, right, counting the waiting rooms until she found the one she was hunting for. Gliding across the threshold of the room, she immediately spotted familiar faces sitting off to one side of the room. She and her husband closed the gap between them and her parents as fast as their feet would allow them.

"Hey," Grant huffed, catching his breath.

"What happened? Where is she?" Olga hastily asked.

Her Mother and niece, who were sitting to Bob's right, looked from Grant to her.

Bob scoffed, releasing a gust of air from his nostrils, "I'll tell you what happened, that idiot you call a sister tried to off herself," Bob retorted, extremely annoyed.

His eldest's mouth unhinged, falling agape in disbelief. She shifted a mortified glance at her husband and then back to her Father, "_What happened_?" She caught herself repeating, though meaning it in a different context.

"She cut her self up...I don't know anything else I just got the phone call."

"But…I…I just _saw _her. She seemed fine! And then I got this voicemail from her and-"

"-She is _never_ fine Olga! When are you going to realize this?" Bob spat.

"Daddy…please—"

"-This is the last time," He continued ranting, "After this, she can go to hell for all I care."

Olga glared at him, horrified by his words. "Could you be any more insensitive? _Honestly_? Now is not the time!"

Bob rolled his eyes at his eldest, "What the hell else am I suppose to say Olga? It's never going to stop! She _is_ a lunatic! You tell me what type of sane person just mutilates them self that way?"

Olga pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. It was very rare that she ever lost her patients, but in light of everything, she was treading in that direction rapidly.

"She's sick…" She hissed.

Her father chuckled darkly, "Yeah you're right about _that_. Sick in the damn head."

"_Enough!_" She snapped.

Seeing the glares that she was shooting him, Bob decided to let it drop. He shrugged and waved her off with his hand, "Suit yourself."

Olga sighed deeply, calming herself.

She collapsed down in the seat just left of Bob, Grant placing himself in the chair next to her. He reached over and grabbed one of her hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She turned her head in her husband's direction and gave him the faintest of smiles.

A few moments of silence passed between the family before Bob suddenly rose from his seat.

"I'm going for a drink," He announced, and slunk out of the waiting area.

Olga sighed, watching his retreating form disappear through the doors. She hated getting into a confrontation with him. She disliked confrontation period, but especially with her family. He'd come around, and if he didn't they still would probably never speak of it again.

She turned her attention to her Mother and niece. "Hey Mom, Hey Sender," She greeted them quietly.

* * *

You could probably say that the halls of the hospital had the feeling of déjà' vu that night the way Gerald tore down the white tile floor just as Olga had not long before him. Phoebe brought up the rear, not really sure how exactly he was moving as fast as he was. Adrenalin she supposed.

He stopped at the first receptionist desk he saw, quickly getting the nurses attention.

"Hi! Excuse me," He huffed, winded from his haste. "I'm looking for somebody."

"Name?" The nurse replied in a monotone voice.

"Helga Pataki," Gerald reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out his badge. He laid it on the counter for her to see. "Listen, I need to know where she is and I need to speak with the doctor in charge of her."

The nurse looked from him, to his badge and back to her computer, "Well, I can page the doctor in charge and see what he says. I don't know if he can speak with you right away or not. In the meantime you can go wait in the lobby around the corner," She pointed in the correct direction.

Gerald sighed, and nodded, "Hurry please?"

He grabbed his badge, and re-placed it back into his coat pocket before walking off. He and Phoebe rounded the corner into the waiting room taking a seat fairly close to the door. Sighing, Gerald leaned forward and rested his head in his palm, closing his eyes to think.

That day had been a nightmare. A total disaster.

Helga Pataki never ceased to amaze him…and not in the good way either. He just hoped, desperately hoped, that she wouldn't die…or wasn't already dead. He tried to force himself not to wish too vividly in fear of jinxing everything. That was his luck though. She had probably already expired on a cold stainless steel table somewhere in this maze of a building. Gone forever from his grasp.

No justice.

That was the way the world was though, he reasoned. The decent will get handed the short end of the stick while the evil prevail unpunished.

He felt a nudge in his ribs and looked up.

"Bob," Phoebe whispered.

Gerald followed her eyes to the burly gray haired man walking towards a group of people and sitting down amongst them. Yep, that was Bob and that must have been the rest of Helga's family sitting there. He recognized Miriam.-

They didn't look overly distraught, he observed. Like 'death-in-the-family' distraught. Maybe he had a chance yet.

His eyes settled on the brown haired man at the end. He didn't recognize him, but assumed him the boyfriend or husband of Helga's sister. His eyes moved to her next. He couldn't remember her name. Phoebe would know. She had memory sharper than a knife. Bob sat next to her and next to him Miriam.

His eyes settled on the child beside Miriam. She had both elbows resting on her knees with her forehead nestled on her palms, tired like. Gerald's brow furrowed. He wouldn't call himself an expert on the Pataki family, but he knew that their unit was quite small, with no extended family that he had ever known of.

He sat there for what felt like hours, staring at the girl, trying to figure out who she was. Perhaps she was Helga's sister's child? She _was_ quite a bit older than Helga and probably had a few children by now.

That was probably it. Had to be.

He was ready to quit his observing and return back to his own thoughts when she moved. Picking her head up out of her palms, she locked eyes with him.

Gerald's breath hitched in his chest when he saw her face. His brown eyes locked with her green ones before she shyly flashed him an ear-to-ear smile that he had grown up knowing _all_ _to well_. A cold electric chill slithered up his spine from the blood congealing in his veins. He felt himself reaching out and grabbing Phoebe's arm.

Phoebe looked at him, concern marring her face. He looked like he'd seen a ghost, "Tell me I'm hallucinating Phoebe, tell me I'm just exhausted and seeing things…" He begged.

"Gerald, what are you…" She trailed off as she followed his eyes over to the girl in the corner that was staring at him.

"Oh my…" She whispered after a moment of shock wore off.

Gerald's grip tightened on her arm.

She saw it too.

She saw his best friend staring back.

* * *

**A/N:** And just when Gerald thought he'd seen it all. Helga's secrecy knows no bounds. Got this chapter out rather quickly compared to normal. I had a _rare_ slow week at school. They are so rare I almost didn't know what to do with myself. Lol. Anyway, long chapter, some drama, a cliffy? I don't know if that counts as a cliffy or not. It's kind of self explanatory BUT what is Gerald reaction going to be? What about Phoebe's? Stay tuned.


	14. Little Sister: Fine For Now

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**Little Sister: Fine For Now  
**

"If God has a master plan,

That only He understands,

I hope it's your eyes He's seeing through,

Things get damaged,

Things get broken,

I thought we'd manage,

But words left unspoken." -Depeche Mode (Precious)

* * *

Oh her body was so stiff. So very, very stiff. She felt like she'd been hit by a truck. Not just any truck either, a _huge_ truck. She felt terribly sore as well. All this from just moving miniscule amounts before her eye lids even pried themselves open.

Yes, Helga Pataki had lived.

But, damn if she couldn't get her lids to stay open.

It seemed that the hand of prolonged sleep refused to ease its clutches on her, and she was pulled under once more into a blissful, dreamless slumber. It was probably some of the best sleep she'd had in a long time.

* * *

She didn't know how long she fell back asleep. A few minutes? A few hours? A whole day? She had no idea. She woke up much more easily on her second try, not feeling overwhelmingly groggy like before. It had to have been some sort of medicine she had been given.

She was disappointed though, at how utterly exhausted she still felt.

Her muscles felt unbelievably sore. She batted her eyes a few times, trying to adjust them to the light. The cool air coursed over her lids, and stung them a bit. Looking around she discovered that she was in a hospital room. Her blue orbs darted everywhere before dropped to her body, examining the wires and things attached to her.

_What in the…?_

She immediately noticed her right arm. It was cast in a splint running from her elbow to her purple swollen knuckles and her thumb was completely entombed, and immobile. Her whole arm felt solidly numb, like a plank of wood.

It all started coming back to her at that point. Rehab, Gerald, the mirror, the glass…

...her _very_ stupid mistake.

She shuttered, feeling her throat tighten up.

Her ears perked. She heard soft footsteps approaching in her direction.

"You're awake!"

She heard Olga's breathless voice shimmer through the air. She slid her eyes from her arm to her sister. The older blonde crossed the gap and enveloped Helga into a warm, yet hungry hug, trying desperately to be gentle in her haste.

Olga pulled back and looked at her sister, her eyes damp from oncoming tears. Helga opened her mouth to speak but realized that her throat was dry as a bone. She coughed, feeling that itchy scratch for the first time since waking.

"Water," She managed to finally croak between coughs.

Olga unblinkingly grabbed a pitcher off of the bed side and poured the water into the accompanying plastic cup. Grabbing the cup, she brought it back up to Helga.

The younger blonde was silently thankful that it had a straw as she sucked the liquid down. The soothing feeling it left on her throat was pure bliss. She sucked the cup dry, not realizing how thirsty she really was. Olga refilled it twice for her before she felt satisfied.

"My mouth felt like a dry bone."

Her voice still didn't' sound totally normal yet. That intense dry probably mangled it for life.

_Crimeny…_ She thought. _I'll sound like Demi Moore forever._

"How long have I been out?"

Olga still sat on the side of the bed, looking her over in a thankful manner, "About 16 hours," She paused and looked at her sister tenderly,"You scared us so badly," She whispered.

Olga's makeup was less than perfection, she had bags under her puffy eyes and she stared at Helga as if she were a lost toy. She looked like somebody who hadn't slept in awhile. Somebody who just waited all night to see if their worthless, selfish, pathetic excuse sister would survive an attempt at offing herself.

Oh yes, it was all coming back to her now.

_I nearly…died._

The thought shook her core.

Helga brought her palm to her face, wiping her eyes as she attempted to sniff back the tears that were fighting to push past her eyes.

_I nearly died._

"Hey," Olga reached out and brushed her slender fingers through her hair, fingertips glided across the remnants of dried blood still caked to her blonde strands fracturing her heart over their meaning.

Helga shook her head, no longer able to contain the tears. They flowed over her lids and down her cheeks like a river. "Olga…"

"Come here," Olga pulled her into mass, wrapping her up in a tight hug, "It's okay."

Helga barely allowed herself to be contained before she came _completely_ undone.

She sobbed.

It felt like every emotion she had ever felt had come rocketing to the surface at the same time. Her past, her present, her future, all of her fears, her insecurities, her once happy thoughts, everything.

Perhaps that was what knocking on the deaths door does to a person.

She really couldn't say what caused it, nor did she dwell on the subject. The only thing she knew is how she felt in this very moment.

Olga placed her cheek on the top of her sister's head as she rubbed her back soothingly. She felt no need to say anything. It was Helga's moment to let go, and she was perfectly okay with being involved. That was what family was _supposed_ to do.

Helga didn't know how long she cried. She just balled until there wasn't anything left to cry. Her breathing finally began to calm, as she felt some of her emotional tension begin to evaporate away. Poor Olga's blouse probably looked like it had been in a wet T-shirt contest.

She finally quieted, but didn't make any attempt to move. As much as she berated Olga about her love of hugging, she was immensely thankful of that particular trait right now. It did feel good to be embraced by someone.

"Did I ruin myself?" She asked in a whisper, gazing down at her pathetic looking arm.

Olga's gaze immediately followed hers.

"No," She shook her head, "They were able to fix you. But you won't be able to use your thumb for awhile."

Helga took a deep breath, and pulled away from her sister's embrace, "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," She confessed and wiped her eyes free of water.

Olga gave her free hand a squeeze, "Talk to me."

Helga knew what that phrase meant. It was her sister trying to understand everything. It was an invitation for her to vent and possibly receive some advice. As light hearted as she tried to make it sound, Helga couldn't deny the fear and desperation that overshadowed every word.

Olga was scared.

The young blonde groaned, "I…I was just so scared…and cornered and, and depressed that I couldn't even _think_ straight."

Her sister squirmed.

"You should have told somebody you were feeling that way."

Helga sighed and stared at her lap.

The silence continued festering and a light bulb finally illuminated in Olga's head, "What aren't you telling me?" She carefully asked.

The thick bile began building in the back of Helga's throat again, tightening it painfully. She closed her eyes and shook her head.

Olga sighed, "Don't be a clam with me. Please?"

No nibble.

"Whatever it is, it wasn't worth this."

"I've done a very bad thing, Olga," Helga breathed heavily. Tears were beginning to fall once again. "I…I think I killed him….I killed Arnold."

Olga stilled, a look of bewilderment had cloaked her face and she looked like she was at a loss for words.

"Why would you say that?" She asked in a hushed tone.

Helga sniffed, "Because it's true…"

Olga blinked, "I don't believe that. I don't believe _any_ part of that."

The tears ran freely once more and Helga began crying heavily for a second time as Olga stared at her mournfully. She looked like a child, devastated over a broken toy.

"I did," She sobbed frantically, "Gerald is right…and then there, there was L-Lila and, and…he was leaving me and—"

"-Helga."

"There was nobody else…Olga! O-Only me!"

"Helga…calm down," Her sister tried again, "_Please_, calm down."

This time the younger girl obeyed, silencing herself, though she continued to breathe heavily.

"Who is Gerald? Who is Lila?" Olga continued.

Helga's face contorted painfully at the mention of those two names. She groaned loudly and then an eerie calm possessed her. "Gerald was Arnold's best friend and he's a cop and he's been interrogating me over the last few months. He's _convinced_ that I did it. I killed Arnold."

Olga stiffened, "He _told _you all of this and you believed him?"

Helga nodded.

Olga pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index, sighing as she did, "I'm not sure _what_ I'm more upset about, this cop harassing you, or, you buying into such nonsense."

"It's not nonsense, I have no memory of that ni—"

"-It is nonsense!" Olga interrupted, "I know this because I was there _with_ you in the weeks after his death. Did you forget? I watched you in the wreck that you were. I'm still watching you in a wreck. You grieved for loss, not of guilt and you radiated that loss with every fiber of your being."

Helga continued staring at her lap.

"You _are_ a good person Helga. I see it. I've always seen it, and Arnold saw it too," Olga paused, "You never _ever_ allow yourself to see it though." She whispered.

The young blonde's gaze slipped from her lap to her sister's face. Her eyes were so blurry they could barely make out her siblings facial features. "I…I just...I loved him…so much…so, so much."

Olga pulled her forward into a warm embrace, "I know you did," She whispered, "I know you did."

"I want to let go so, so badly, but I can't. There is something inside of me that just won't allow me and I'm…I'm afraid that is something dark," Helga confessed.

"You confuse your heart with something much more sinister. Letting go begins with accepting that sometimes, things happen that are beyond our control. Though, sometimes it's much harder to convince the heart than the head of that."

Helga sniffed, "I have tried to tell myself that and…I don't know."

"_Have _you tried to accept it? Or have you just buried it with substance?"

Helga remained quiet briefly, chewing over the relevancy of her sister's words, "I…" She began, but paused, swooshing her own words around in her mouth some more, "I've…buried it."

"I thought as much."

Helga inhaled, "It runs much deeper than just that though. I'm in thick and I….I need help."

Olga hugged her a little tighter and smiled in relief, "It's okay to ask again, just promise me something:" The tears began welling up in her eyes heavily, threatening to tumble over her lids.

"Please, please…please," She begged, "Don't ever do something like this again."

Helga pulled back and locked eyes with her sister's matching blue orbs. She reached out and grabbed Olga's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, "Never again." She finally whispered.

And that was one promise she would have no trouble keeping.

Olga beamed through blurry eyes. That awkward elephant that had been lurking since Helga awoke had finally left the room.

"I love you, baby sis."

A small smile grew on Helga's face at that age old nick name of her sister's. Normally she would squawk about her hatred of it and how it annoyed her, but she really couldn't say she minded at the moment.

"I love you too."

"Are you in any pain?" Olga tapped her arm splint very delicately.

"You're like my mother," Helga griped.

"Somebody has to keep watch over you," Olga noted. She perked a perfectly manicured eye brow, seemingly daring her for a smart rebuttal.

Helga shook her head, "No, no pain. It's completely numb, in fact."

"They nerve blocked it, though I'm not sure when it will wear off," She paused, "They are not allowing us to give you any sort of pain killers because of your… _history_. Ibuprofen only."

Olga withdrew from her position on the bed edge and retreated to the bedside chair. The damp spot on her shirt from Helga cry session was almost gone. She began rummaging through her purse, eventually retrieving a packet of tissues and whipping her eyes with them.

Helga stared glumly at her arm, "Crimeny," She whispered, barely audible.

"Are you hungry?" .

She hadn't thought about it since she woke up, but at the mention of potential food, her stomach grumbled aggressively. She couldn't really remember when the last time she ate was. "Maybe a little hungry." She reckoned.

Olga stood from the chair, grabbing her purse off of the nearby counter. "What would you like?"

"I'm sure all of it will make my taste buds cry. Just pick whatever looks least bad. Please."

Even at her very lowest, she still hadn't lost her cynicism.

"All right, I'll be back in a bit," Olga strolled out of the room gracefully.

Helga relaxed back into her pillow, allowing her lids to shut. She remembered now why she avoided crying at all costs. Damn if it wasn't exhausting.

* * *

It seemed that just as quick as she left Olga was back. Helga's eyes snapped open to see her carrying a small brown box and a fountain drink of some sort. It smelt like pizza. Hell, it could have been tofu, she didn't care, she would devour anything at the moment.

Olga set the box and drink down on the food tray and swung it over the bed.

"Thank you," She said before demolishing the personal pizza in probably a less-than-graceful way. What could she say? She was starving.

Getting some food in her stomach certainly made her feel 10x better than she did. The over baring bad feeling had subsided a bit, though she still felt utterly exhausted.

"The pizza was great, thank you again for getting it for me," Helga smiled at her sister. The pizza truly wasn't all that bad tasting. Or maybe she was just too hungry to notice.

Olga nodded, "You're welcome."

Helga relaxed back into her bed patting her full belly. A lengthy stretch of peaceful silence erupted between the two.

"Olga, is there any way I can see my baby? I miss her terribly," Helga asked, breaking the silence and glancing at her sister.

She knew she sounded mushy. Even more humorous was that, for once, Helga Pataki didn't care that she sounded sentimental. That's still how she was feeling inside. She hadn't seen her daughter in too long and it gnawed at the deepest walls of her heart.

Olga blinked.

"Well, Grant took her home with him very late last night. She may still be asleep. I can get him to bring her up here later, if you want?" She suggested.

"Yeah," Helga nodded, "I would like that. No offense, but she's the one person in the world that I want to see the most right now."

Olga smiled gingerly, "No offense taken."

"How has she been?"

"She's doing fine. Just misses her mama."

Helga smiled sadly.

* * *

It had been a dreadfully long night. Just dreadful. And it had ended with Phoebe dragging Gerald home, kicking and screaming when the sun finally broke the horizon.

She pried her eyes open to the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting across her nostrils. She yawned and stretched, reaching out beside her for a familiar bundle of warmth, but finding only a cool spot. She sat up and rubbed the blur from her eyes, wondering what time it was. Judging by the light outside, she guessed late afternoon, and after finding her glasses, a quick glance at her bed side clock confirmed her suspicion.

The java aroma became more and more concentrated, chasing away the bits of sleep left and alerting her senses. She at least knew Gerald was still in the house. A relieving thought at the moment as she climbed out of bed, and prodded her way to the kitchen.

She was disappointed to find it empty and silent, save for the coffee maker brewing away. Sighing, she grabbed a mug from the cabinet, poured herself a heaping cup and left the room.

When she rounded the corner into their living room she found Gerald seated at the couch, head in his hands. A bottle of Irish whiskey sat on the coffee table in front of him. It was extremely rare of him to ever drag out that bottle, and judging by the steaming mug next to it, she guessed that he was trying to get the most kick from his coffee. It sat next to that ever familiar manila folder that had haunted their residence for some time.

He picked up his head when he heard rustling, catching her eyes when she stopped. His eyes were bloodshot with deep dark circles pitted beneath them and a needely blanket of hair lay across his normally clean shaven face.

He'd never gone to sleep.

"Hey," He said in a hoarse voice, "Sleep well?"

Phoebe's brow creased. She wasn't terribly interested in discussing the quality of her sleep.

"Gerald," She sat down on the coffee table to face him, "Honey, you need to sleep."

"I can't," He shook his head slowly, "I'm just too…angry…" He trailed off, "…I didn't think I could possibly hate her any worse."

Phoebe reached forward and gently grabbed his hand. As vague as he may have sounded, she knew exactly what he meant. He was still as shell-shocked as she was. After all, it hadn't been long ago that he'd clawed at her arm, begging her to confirm that he was hallucinating. She couldn't tell him that though. It would have been _such_ a lie. Instead the two of them had sat in a tense silence, watching the child from afar.

They had watched those familiar green eyes and finally the tell-tale ear to ear smile she flashed them before shyly looking away. She could recall turning to Gerald and seeing him devoid of all color, his jaw muscles tightly clenched. He had then stormed from the room moments later.

"I know…I know," Phoebe replied, sadness in her voice.

Gerald reached passed her and grabbed his mug of coffee, downing most of it in a single gulp, "I just don't understand…I don't understand _her_. I don't understand how somebody can be _like_ her. So… self absorbed," He guzzled the remaining coffee, "Arnold's probably been doing fucking flips in his grave and…and, and that poor child is probably so s_crewed up_ because of her. And I…I can't believe that I—"

"-Gerald," Phoebe interrupted, "This _isn't your_ fault. Nobody could have known."

"But how could _I_ not have known?" He challenged dejectedly, "I'm a cop. I spend my life _looking_ into other peoples backgrounds. How could I have missed this?!"

"You find criminal wrong doings Gerald. You and I both know that the only way it would have shown up in that folder is if she had harmed that child in some way," She reasoned.

Gerald gritted his teeth. He reached around his raven haired companion a second time, retrieving the bottle of whiskey from behind her and pouring a liberal amount into his empty coffee mug, "She _would_ be fucking spotless there…not _one_ goddamn hiccup," He downed the liquid.

"Would you listen to yourself?" Phoebe gaped. Helga was a lot of things, be she wasn't about to sit there and speculate on the mothering capabilities of her former friend.

He ignored her and instead poured himself another liberal shot of whiskey and knocked it back.

"That's enough," She scolded and snatched the bottle from his possession. She quickly located the top on the table, screwed it back on and tossed the bottle into a cushioned chair nearby.

"Sorry," Gerald dropped his head into his hands, "I just never expected there to be a rabbit hole this deep when I opened that folder," He paused, "It's just…overwhelming."

Phoebe leaned forward, tilting his head towards her and cupping his face between her palms. His tired eyes radiated a conflicted anger, "You need to sleep," She pressed again.

Gerald finally deflated and slowly nodded, "I know…"

He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead before standing up and trudging off to their room. He collapsed; face first, onto the bed, not even bothering to undress himself.

Back in the living room, Phoebe let out a relieved sigh, thankful that she'd managed to convince him to get some rest. She stood up and collected the whiskey and coffee mug, replacing the bottle on its rightful shelf in their small liquor cabinet across the room. As she turned to make her way back to the kitchen, she stopped in front of the white board resting in the corner.

She stared at the diagram and the notes that detailed an intense cat and mouse game. The cat had fooled the mouse and the mouse had fleeced the cat.

What would happen next?

* * *

Helga didn't know when she had fallen back asleep. She assumed she must have dozed again sometime after she finished eating and talking to her sister. She stretched out her muscles for the millionth time that day, welcoming the expanding burn they conjured.

It looked to be late afternoon outside, judging by the color of the light filtering through the lidded blinds hanging from the window. The day was passing quickly, and no matter how much Helga slept, she still didn't seem to get any closer to feeling well rested. Her body was tired, that was obvious, but her mind was rather restless. She heard a one sided conversation taking place across the room to her right and her eyes curiously investigated.

"That's just what she said," She watched Olga say into her cell phone. "I…I honestly don't know," Her sister stood some feet away, leaning against the door frame, facing the hall way, "Well regardless, I've got some things I've got to discuss with you later so we'll figure out something then," She paused, listening, "Oh, geez, I don't know. I guess it'll be okay to park there."

"I know they don't clearly mark anything," She paused, "304. All right, see you in a bit."

She stood there a little longer, scrolling her index down her phone and browsing at something. She finally blackened the screen and turned away from the hallway, smiling when she caught her sister's eyes, "I was just about to wake you up."

Helga chuckled tiredly, "I beat you to it."

Olga glided across the room to the nearby counter and retrieved her purse, "I'm surprised. You were out like a light," She said, as she slipped her phone back inside of the bag.

"I know," Helga groaned, "I don't even remember falling asleep."

She sat up a little further and inhaled a deep breath as she cracked her neck a few times to relieve the stiffness. Hospital beds were the worlds worse. Then again, she had slept on worst than this on more than a few occasions in her life. Who was she to complain?

"So, is somebody coming up?" She inquired, still trying to wiggle the kinks out of her body.

"Just Grant, the boys and Sender."

Helga grinned as a warm and happy feeling ran through her. Olga had kept her promise.

"Thank you," She said, "For getting Grant to bring her up here."

Olga waved her off and smiled.

They sat in silence, listening to the pad of footsteps up and down the hallway until the wrap of knuckles against metal stirred their attention. Grant stepped through the threshold of the door frame with a grin. Sender and his youngest son Scott trailed behind him chatting amongst themselves.

"Hey!" Grant greeted.

"Hey!" His wife lit up. She hopped up out the chair and closed the distance between them, giving him a peck on the lips.

"Turns out," He pulled back from their kiss, "I was able to park there."

"Good," Olga nodded.

Grant's brown eyes wandered from his wife to his sister-in-law perched in the bed across the small room, "How are you feeling kiddo?" He crossed his arms as if he were there to inspect the situation.

Helga snorted, rolling her eyes at his terminology. She was very well aware that he was trying to act normal in a tense and probably awkward situation and, for the most part, she appreciated it.

"Like I've been run over by a truck," She wise-cracked, though it wasn't entirely a joke.

Grant winced and shook his head, "Well, for future reference, just so you know, we like having you around, so don't try anything again, okay?" He said and cracked a small, but loving smile.

Helga genuinely grinned and gave him a two fingered salute with her left hand.

"Dear, where are Brett and Daniel?" Olga interrupted, a mild amount of concern crossing her face as she glanced back towards the doorway in search of her oldest and middle son.

Her husband turned and quirked an eyebrow confusingly, "What do you mean? They're at a friend's house."

"Oh," Olga exhaled, "I thought you said you had the _boys_ with you."

Grant chuckled, pulling her into a sideways hug, "I probably did out of habit," He kissed the top of her head. "Or you're losing your mind," He teased.

"Probably the later," She admitted.

While her Aunt and Uncle continued chatting about her cousins, Sender weaved around them and straight to her Mother. She smiled a toothy grin at her and Helga brightened.

"Hey sweetheart," Helga greeted her.

"Hi mama," Sender replied as she clumsily climbed up onto the edge of the bed and flung her arms tightly around Helga.

"I've missed you," Helga breathed, wrapping her left arm around the girl tightly.

"I missed you too."

Helga would have loved to have stayed like that, but her body just wouldn't allow it. Sender wasn't heavy by any means, but the right side of her upper body just as bruised and tender as could be.

"Sweetie," She patted Sender on the back, "How about you roll over to the side here," She removed her arm and patted the channel of space beside her.

Sender peeked up at Helga and then with a huge grin proceeded to climb over her body and settle in beside her. In the process, Helga took knee to the gut, causing her that horribly uncomfortable feeling of rocketing down the first big hill on a rollercoaster.

_Kids,_ She sighed mentally, clenching her jaw, _Bless their hearts. _

"Helga..."

She looked up with a pained expression still firmly perched on her face as she tried to rub the spot out with her palm.

"We're just going to run and grab a bite to eat. Will you be all right?" Olga asked as she grabbed her purse and flung it over her shoulder.

"Yeah," Helga nodded, "I'll be fine. You guys go. I'll see you in a bit."

She watched them leave before turning her attention back to the small girl now plopped down beside her, and resting her head on her shoulder. Helga lifted her arm up and put it around her so she could be more comfortable. The gut punched feeling in her stomach had finally subsided, thankfully.

Helga tilted her head at her silent daughter, curious about her muteness. She saw her staring intently across her body, the gears in her head churning away at something.

"Did you break your arm?" Sender suddenly asked. Her eyes were fixated on Helga's right arm as if it were an unbearably strong magnet.

Helga smirked, "Nah. I ran with scissors."

The girl giggled, and shook her head, "No you didn't."

"Uh huh," Helga assured. "I fell and got cut. That's why you should never do that."

"Oh," Sender's eyes became large as she shifted her glance from her mom's arm to her face. She gulped before looking back down, "Does it hurt?"

"Not right now. It will though..." Helga replied, unenthusiastically, mentally groaning at her own reminder of how that was going to feel once that block wore off. It wasn't going to be pretty that's for sure.

"Mom, how much longer do I have to stay with Grandma and Grandpa?"

Helga sighed, and tilted her head, looking down at her daughter again, "I don't know, why?"

"'Cause, I'm tired of staying with them. They're boring!" Sender huffed, clearly agitated with her current living situation. She looked back up at Helga, her small brows furrowed together and her mouth down turned in an unhappy scowl.

Helga laughed, unable to suppress the giggles brewing in her chest. Oh, she was just precious when she was disgruntled. Sender did a pitiful job of 'angry.' She truly did. No matter how hard she tried, she just ended up becoming more adorable.

"Boring?" She repeated, laughter still threading her voice.

The young girl nodded adamantly, "They don't like to go to the park or color or paint or play games or any fun stuff like that."

"Well sweetheart, they're old. Sometimes old people don't like doing stuff like that."

Sender exhaled and looked down, that scowl still as prominent as ever on her little face. Helga had to bite her bottom lip rather hard to keep from laughing, "I told Grandpa and Grandma that they're not fun like you are."

A snicker escaped Helga's throat, despite her best attempts to keep anymore laughter suppressed.

"So, I guess if I'm fun then I'm not old and boring huh?" She humored her daughter.

"No, you're young!" Sender fervently nodded.

Helga gave her a squeeze, still giggling, "I'm so flattered that you think so."

"So, I'm sure you've been doing a bunch of fun things in school though, huh?"

"…I don't like school anymore," Sender shook her head.

"And why not?"

"'Cause there's this kid in my class that's mean to me."

Helga blinked, "Well, what did this kid do?"

Sender's face down turned, "He's just mean. He picks on me and calls me names."

Helga sighed, shaking her head with a slight chuckle, "Oh, a _boy_ huh? What's his name?"

Sender perked an eyebrow and glanced upwards at her mom, "His names Riley… and he's stupid," She huffed.

"Sender, he likes you."

The young girls face puckered into sheer repulsiveness, "But! But he threw _a rock_ at me the other day!" She protested.

"So? Throw one back—ah, on second thought, _don't_," Helga quickly amended, "You don't need to be getting into trouble. Trust me, he's just being mean to you because he likes you, _that's all_."

"Eww," Sender wrinkled her nose, "I don't like him."

Helga gave her a squeeze,"Well I guess you'll just have to ignore him then."

The girl nodded, "I'll try. He's just _so_ annoying," She yawned, tucking her head back against Helga's inner shoulder.

"Are you sleepy?" Helga asked.

Sender nodded again, her eye lids drooping like heavy weights, "Uncle Grant didn't take me home till late."

"Well, if you want to nap it's okay. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?" Sender asked.

"I promise," Helga reassured. "I love you," She whispered.

It didn't take long before Sender was out cold. She hadn't been kidding when she said she was sleepy.

Helga stroked her daughter's soft blonde locks while resting her cheek against the top of her head. She quietly listened to the shallow rhythmic intake of her breath, finding it incredibly soothing.

It was nice to feel even slightly normal for a moment. Though, she felt a little guilty about being able to laugh after everything. She could argue that it was the years of pretending that nothing was wrong that allowed her to turn on the pleasant facade. But, Sender always did have a way of lighting her up inside, even in her most down and terrible moods.

She was suddenly filled with a surge of nostalgia. A feeling that heavily reminded her of the few non-turbulent things in her life. The lazy Sunday afternoons that she and Sender would spend catnapping on the couch and watching movies. Mostly because she was hung over or burnt out on a 'suicide-tuesday.' Or the occasions when she'd wake up in the morning to find a little blonde mass snuggled up to her in bed from a bad dream the prior night.

Near death had been something. Sure, she'd been swiped by the reaper's blade in an accidental overdose months prior, but this time around, the impact was deep and jarring. Intentionally seeking death was far more paramount to ones mental health than happening upon it by accident. That was for sure. And she _had_ intended to die; satisfied with canceling out her own hopeless future.

But that hadn't happened.

Imagine her surprise when her eyes cracked the light of day and everything started flooding back into her mind. Nobody ever talked about the intensity of emotions. Nobody ever talked about the intensity of _regret._

Waking up to find Olga with her brought on a gust of emotional remorse she could no more explain than she could help. But even that didn't hold a candle to the amount of guilt and shame that consumed her when she thought about her daughter.

The person she'd wanted to see the most.

In her eyes, Sender was most perfect little being in the world. The one person who had kept her tethered to reality, even if only by a _single_ thread. It now frightened her to know that she'd reached a point in her life where even her own flesh and blood hadn't been enough to stop her from wanting to hang on.

And what did that say about her character?

It said that she _really_ didn't deserve to be a parent. An assessment that made her stomach churn. She physically felt sick recalling the splintered thoughts she'd reassured herself with while she lay in a pool of blood. How she'd selfishly convinced herself that Sender didn't need her. She didn't need the _one_ parent she had. She'd be fine, she was a trooper, she was a good kid.

Jesus Christ, could she have been anymore selfish?

Truthfully, no matter what she may have tried to convince herself of, a little voice in her head said that it wouldn't have fared well. And she knew it was correct. It sent a chill up her spine and an even worse feeling knotted itself in her stomach.

She loved that child more than anything else in the world and she was failing her miserably. She had an obligation to get this right, and she'd made a promise to do so, but so far everything had been derailed. It took more than just staying alive too. She wouldn't be able to hide what she was from her forever. Sender would eventually come to know her as a drunk and a drug addict.

She certainly didn't want that, and it seemed easy enough to change, but she knew better. If it had been _that_ easy, she would have stopped _years_ ago.

With that being said, she was livid with herself because she knew very well the consequences of the type of parenting that she was engaging in to a certain extent. She knew exactly what it could result in. A child who walked around with a major chip on her shoulder.

The idea of Sender becoming a broody, angry pre-teen and snowballing into a troubled adult all because 'mommy didn't love her enough' or never paid enough attention left an awful taste in her mouth.

She didn't want Sender to become a monster. She might have been one, but that didn't mean she had to raise one.

Of course, every eye-opening realization she'd finally been enlightened with would be right out the door if things went south. She couldn't forget the reason why she was laying in a hospital bed with a splinted arm.

It was one of the two things that had been at the forefront of her mind ever since she'd opened her eyes.

Jail.

She quietly groaned and closed her eyes. She really didn't feel like thinking about it. She was calm, she had her child, and she just wanted to be. It was impossible to ignore though.

She didn't want to be a murderer. Nor did she want Sender growing up knowing reality as: Her mother sat in jail for killing her father.

The cold logic of her mind was certain that she was a murderer though. But sitting there, in the rarity of peacefulness, it felt all wrong. Like an ill-fitting jacket. She had declared that she didn't put anything past herself anymore, and she'd awakened that day clinging to that same belief, but something Olga said earlier made her question what she really _did_ know about herself.

Could the same heart that held her most intense feelings of love have the capability of being dark and cold as well? She and Arnold weren't a perfect couple. By any means. They had their ups, their downs, they fought, and constantly towards the end. They had clicked perfectly just a little more than they had not.

She found it hard to believe that she could be the icy hearted being who pulled the trigger and killed the guy she loved while _also_ being the person who, despite her pitfalls, had been a loving girlfriend and then a loving mother to their daughter.

Her mind was starting to scream bloody murder. _Guns, blackouts, abrasiveness, suicide, Lila…_

It wasn't getting its way.

She chose to ignore it because she just couldn't reconcile those two perceptions together anymore, like she had the prior night. They couldn't _possibly_ exist in the same body.

It wasn't often that she did this, but she agreed to give herself the benefit of the doubt.

She'd eluded death twice now. Miraculously. And though she had never put much stock in religious connotations, she had to admit, it felt like somebody or some thing wanted her alive.

Maybe it _was_ her second chance to figure everything out.

Whatever it was, whatever the reason, life didn't seem to want to be done with her yet. It would be hard moving past here, but she'd do it. She'd do everything in her power to convince Gerald that she wasn't as evil as he thought. She'd do everything in her power to stay out of jail. She'd do everything in her power to stay clean for good. And she'd do whatever it took to be a good mom again.

She planted a soft kiss on the top of Sender's head, "I'm going to try and not screw this up for us anymore," She whispered, "I'm sincerely going to try."

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry guys, took a while to update, I know. It took so long partly because I wrote three different versions of this chapter. I ended up settling with this one because it felt more organic for the situation. I know Helga has a habit of being sarcastic and grouchy all the time, but I think in this situation, even she would bare all and be overly emotional about everything. Also, as I'm sure you observed, she and Olga are, to a certain degree, very close. You'll find out in later chapters how they developed that bond, but Olga does lay hint to it in this chapter. Also, I brought Sender back and had Helga do a little bit of self reflecting on herself as a human being and as a mother. Anyway, thank you guys for reviewing and keeping up with this story! R&R it keeps me motivated.


	15. Doubt

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**Doubt**

"One pill makes you larger,

And one pill makes you small,

And the ones that mother gives you,

Don't do anything at all,

Go ask Alice,

When she was ten feet tall." -Jefferson Airplane (White Rabbit)

* * *

Tears welled up and spilled over her lids as she bit her lip in order to prevent herself from screaming. The burning and pulling was excruciating. The block in her arm had worn off at about 8:00p.m that night. It was now around 3:00a.m and the pain was at a peak. Four nurse calls so far and nothing was any better. She'd begged and pleaded with them to give her a pain killer, but they had continuously refused, instead giving her the biggest milligram dose of Ibuprofen she'd ever seen. A real horse pill.

It has barely taken the edge off.

She didn't get what the problem was. She could understand them not wanting to send her _home_ with painkillers. It didn't take a genius to know that that would be a _terrible_ idea. But while she was here? Really? How could she abuse them? How? She just wanted to go to sleep and not have, what felt like a knife, stabbing her arm and radiating through her bones.

She groaned and jabbed the green call button on the side of her bed for the fifth time. Even that slight move caused a pulling that would have brought even the toughest man to his knees. She yelled, her eyes watering even more. More quickly than she had anticipated, her door was opening and the nurse on duty stepping through.

"Goddamn it I can't take this anymore!" Helga yelled through the pain.

The nurse walked closer, unaffected by the blonde's abrasiveness.

"Has the Ibuprofen not worked?"

"No!" Helga shot her an are-you-serious kind of look, "Can't you give me something else? Please?"

"The only thing I can do is give you another dose of Ibuprofen and check to see if maybe we can ice your arm down."

"Anything…please."

"I'll be back in a minute," She turned on her heel and left the room.

Helga groaned in agony. This was definitely the most awful pain she'd ever experienced in her life.

* * *

It was 3:15a.m and Phoebe Heyerdahl just wasn't sleepy. The minute she and Gerald had pulled an almost all nighter at the hospital, she knew her sleep pattern would be woefully out-of-wack. And it didn't disappoint. She was mighty thankful that Gerald had succumbed to her demands and gone to bed himself, but it had left her painfully bored in the now early hours of the morning. There was nothing on TV worth watching and even if there was, her mind was too preoccupied thinking about Helga to concentrate on anything else.

She'd tried to busy herself with cleaning, but that could only last for so long. By 1:30a.m, she was sure that they had the most spotless house on the block. She'd even finished up writing some minor lab reports for work that weren't even due for another couple of weeks. No matter what she tried to busy herself with, her mind and her eyes kept crawling back to the stacks of parchment shoved into the two manila folders on their coffee table. They truly had haunted her residence for quite some time now. She was surprised that she hadn't gone through them, but she considered that more of an effort to stay semi-neutral in the beginning. Then and there, she decided enough was enough. She was just going to read them purely to feed her own curiosity.

After making herself a mug of tea, she relaxed back into the couch, opening the folder on top as if it were a novel. It was Helga's file and she supposed it indeed was a biography of sorts. She dug in with gusto. Page after page she flipped, devouring everything she could and half way through, she realized a disturbing trend.

Escalation.

Sure there were the minor offenses pre-Arnold death, Helga's worst being the breaking and entry of Big Bob's Beepers, which Phoebe suspected was revenge. She remembered that Bob had temporarily given Helga the boot (for reasons Phoebe could only speculate) the summer before their freshman year and within a week, his store had been broken in to.

What ensued could only be described as an epic family fiasco. When the dust finally settled, Helga didn't return home, instead choosing to stay with Arnold at his grandparent's boarding house until the two of them moved into what would be their final home.

Phoebe kept flipping.

After Arnold's death, the focus changed dramatically, with a notable gap in events.

For 2 ½ years after his death it was an absolute gray area. Not so much as a traffic violation and Phoebe knew now why. Gerald had been vocal about his suspicions on her motives for disappearing. At the time, it _had_ been strange, but now it made perfect sense to her.

Helga hadn't disappeared solely because Bob had forced her out of view (If he even did). She'd disappeared, more than likely, because she'd had a baby. A child that she, nor Gerald had known existed until a few hours ago.

And the more Phoebe thought about it, the more she realized that that was _exactly_ the kind of thing Helga would do. If there was one thing that she had learned about her during their friendship it was that she did _not_ take well to change.

Ever.

Helga's first offense after the 'time off' was for public drunkenness and refusal to cooperate. From there it became worse and worse up until the party where Gerald found her unresponsive. As Phoebe flipped through the final pages of the folder, she didn't see an unrepentant monster, wreaking havoc without the slightest care, she saw a broken girl's cry for help.

"Awful…" She whispered aloud.

Phoebe could hardly fathom the idea of losing Gerald. Even though she couldn't see _herself _spiraling that far out of control, she really couldn't blame Helga for doing so. Love and grief were two powerful human emotions and she supposed that even she might be tempted to find at least a little something to lessen the anguish.

She immediately felt a little guilty. No doubt, Gerald's idea of Lila had been brilliant at the time, but it was more than likely what snapped the fragile strand of self-worth that Helga had been clinging to. And Phoebe couldn't help but feel responsible for sparking the idea. If there was a silver lining, Helga's reaction told Phoebe volumes about the condition of her and Arnold's relationship. As the old saying went, 'you never know what goes on behind closed doors.' She felt that it was safe to say that those two were definitely having problems, but that did not make Helga a killer.

She sighed, closing the folder and setting it down, electing to pick up the other manila folder. The Arnold murder file.

When she opened it, what she saw made her queasy, and she wondered how Gerald could stomach such photos. The blood was almost too much. Arnold had fought hard to survive; if the bloody handprints smeared all over the couches and coffee table were any indication.

She was sure that he had been trying to get to the phone, which was in the kitchen, before shock probably overcame him and he collapsed on the second couch. If she hadn't had know better, she would have assumed that he had bled to death. It was gruesome, but it once again reaffirmed what she had originally thought, and that was that Helga would _not_ have left him to suffer like that.

She'd seen enough for the moment. She hurriedly flipped past the remaining body photos, arriving to the other crime scene pictures.

The gun location and the strewn clothes and drawers in the bedroom. She was particularly interested by these photographs. Arnold's clothes were all over the place and the only thing out of order of hers were her socks.

_Curious place to keep a gun_. She found herself thinking.

The drawer was rather small and shallow. She imagined it would have been a real pain to have stored the gun there and then crammed socks around it. And the area of the country in which they lived didn't promote too much flip-flop weather, so it wasn't like she would have rarely opened it.

So why then? Why go through the trouble?

"Unless…" She mumbled. _Unless it was never in there at all. _

She became generally intrigued by the idea. If the gun _wasn't _in that drawer, then what _was_ in it? And why was the drawer open?

She knew she needed to find out exactly where Helga had kept the gun to be certain and until she did, she was at a dead end. She stole a glance at the wall clock, seeing it to be 5:09a.m. She sighed, snapping the folder closed and contemplating.

She _could_ just ask.

No. No, that would be way too forward of her. They hadn't really spoken in years, it would be awkward.

_How exactly could this conversation ever NOT be awkward though?_

No. She was just going to chill. She would wait for Gerald to wake up and then they'd talk through her theory and go from there. Yes. That's exactly what she should do.

But…but what if he refused to consider it? Gerald tended to be a stubborn person. Once his mind was made up, it usually stayed that way. Not a terrible trait because she knew it was one of the characteristics that made him good at what he did. In large part because his hunches, and gut feelings about a person were usually spot on.

That wasn't necessarily the problem though. What Phoebe feared, was something else going on in Gerald entirely.

Personal bias. Gerald had never particularly liked Helga. And it was no secret that Helga wasn't fond of him either. They both had tolerated each other for Phoebe and Arnold's sake. Which was where Phoebe's great concern lay. She feared that Gerald had let his personal hate for Helga cloud his judgment of a murder case.

An alarming possibility that she now realized had been seeping through during their semi-casual debate over the relevancy of Arnold's non-instant death.

Gerald had been upset and confused the night prior and who wouldn't? But Phoebe knew that once he got up, and was firing on all cylinders again, everything would hinge around that voicemail Helga had left him, and he'd start putting her indictment in motion. And she was almost positive that Helga wouldn't fight it. Why? Because he had broken her.

Phoebe knew that she had to stall him, because nothing about the entire situation sat right with her. She also knew that the only way to do so was to go behind his back and ask Helga the questions that she thought desperately needed answering. She hated it, she really did.

If she was going to make that call, she'd have to be tactful about it, and she'd have to do it soon. She estimated, at most, she had a three hour window before Gerald _might_ begin to stir, and she absolutely had to do this before he could object.

Having such a limited amount of time to work with, she wanted everything pre-planned. Grabbing a pen and pad from a nearby drawer, she began scribbling down every question she had formulated while going through those folders, beginning with her inquiry about the dresser drawer. She knew that it wouldn't be perfect. Helga could say something that could spark other questions, or void some of her other ones, but it was a good skeleton.

When she finished her list, she gathered the folders and Gerald's hand recorder and relocated to their office where there was a desk, one of their home phones and her laptop. On her way she stole a quick peek into their bedroom to ensure that Gerald was still 'dead to the world.' Satisfied, she sealed herself off and did a quick search on her computer for the hospital number.

The phone on the other end barely rang at all before it was picked up with inquiry.

"Hi! I'm actually looking for a room number." Phoebe requested. "Well, it's a friend of mine, who came in early the night before. There was just so much going that…right," She nodded absently. "Helga Pataki. P-a-t-a-k-i."

She waited silently as the receptionist on the other end retrieved her request. "That would be great, thank you," Her heart started beating more profoundly. The receptionist had offered to transfer her call to Helga's room phone. After a quick hiss, it began to ring.

Phoebe closed her eyes and prayed that she picked up.

She wouldn't get another chance.

* * *

Helga lay back against her pillow, eyes closed and comfortable for the first time in hours. Her arm splint lay unfastened with a chilled gel pack gently placed over the inner side. Such relief the cold brought as it numbed away the white hot pain. She would have preferred a painkiller but hey, she'd take the gel pack over nothing at all.

She longed for morning to roll around. Olga would be back and if everything checked out okay, she'd be out of this place. She was getting her wish. She was going back to live with her sister on account of her not being allowed back into the rehab center. She figured that they had urgently assessed her as mentally unstable, and wanted no part in that can of worms. Who could blame them? She didn't care what they thought, she was just happy she wasn't returning.

The shrill tone of her bedside phone nearly made her jump out the bed. She cussed loudly, reaching around to try to silence the offensive thing. Who the heck was calling her at this hour?

Finally getting a hold of it, she dragged the receiver across the bed. "Yeah?" She made no effort to hide the irritation in her voice.

On the opposite end, Phoebe had clicked the phone onto speaker and positioned Gerald's recorder up near it so that she was sure it would be able to capture both halves of the conversation. "Hi, Helga."

"_Who is _this_?"_

"Phoebe."

"_Phoebe?"_ Helga said in disbelief. _"What…why are you calling me?"_

The raven haired young women shrugged, "I couldn't sleep. I had some questions that needed answers," She replied honestly.

The other half of the phone remained quiet, and she could only guess what was running through Helga's mind. She wasn't exactly sure why, but it made her dreadfully nervous.

"_Oh I see,"_ Helga finally replied, a cynical air in her tone. _"…yeah…Gerald put you up to this didn't he?"_

Phoebe frowned, surprised at Helga's continued animosity, "Actually, Gerald doesn't know I'm on the phone with you."

Helga snorted, _"Sure he doesn't. Why the hell else would you be calling me then?"_

"Well, maybe I see things a little bit differently than he does."

Helga said nothing and another small stretch of silence washed over the two. Phoebe waited patiently for Helga to say something. Unfortunately, Helga didn't really know what to say.

Finally Phoebe gave up on getting that reply. "Is it okay, then, for me to ask you some questions?"

She heard a very hard swallow, _"…I guess," _Helga said quietly.

"I just want you to answer with the first thing that comes to mind."

"_Okay."_

"I'll know if you're lying, and it won't help you anyway," Not exactly truthful, but Helga didn't know that. Phoebe had all the power right now, and she knew it. "Where in the house did you keep that gun?"

On the opposite end, Helga's brows furrowed in reflection. The question thoroughly stunned her, but her mind began piecing together the fragmented subtleties of her past. "My bedside table, bottom drawer."

"_Where did you leave it lying around?" _

"I…I never left lying around. Arnold would have been livid if I had."

"_Did you keep anything of value in your dresser drawers?"_

"Yea-yeah…my sock drawer. I kept my stash of adderall, and the little bit of cocaine I'd started experimenting with," Helga admitted, having to give that question absolutely zero thought. It was a stash practice she continued using through the years, "I kept some cash in there too on occasion."

She waited, expecting another question, but only hearing silence. Her heart began to sink and the feeling of being 'taken to the cleaners' began to creep through her. Another nail in her coffin along with her voicemail.

Perhaps Gerald had been craftier than she'd given him credit for. Lord knows what trap she'd verbally walked into.

"I'm definitely going to jail now, aren't I?" Her voice low and soft. Defeated. She felt the vigor and hope she'd held earlier begin to drain from her body.

What she couldn't detect though, was the smile that beamed through the silence on Phoebe's face. Not a smile of deviousness but a smile a personal achievement.

"You're not _definitely_ going anywhere," Phoebe finally said, snapping out of her trance, "I shouldn't be telling you this anymore than I should be on the phone with you but…I…I don't believe you had anything to do with this."

On the other end, Helga's heart began to beat wildly, leaping up into her ears, and rendering her temporarily speechless.

"Why?" She finally asked.

"_Well…because there is a detail involved in all of this, minute for sure, but so out of character for who I knew you to be, that I didn't and don't believe you could possibly have had anything to do with it." _

Helga was admittedly, very dumbfounded, "What's the detail?"

"_I'd rather keep it to myself for now." _

Helga didn't like it, but she could live with that answer for now. Somebody else besides Olga (who didn't count in Helga's opinion) was giving her the benefit of the doubt, and that was all that mattered to her.

"_I've got a few more questions though."_

"Yeah, okay," Helga said with pep.

"_Did anybody else know that you had a gun?—Besides Arnold."_

"Bob…um…some of the guys and lived next door and across the street from us."

"_Did they know where you kept it?"_

Helga shook her head, "No," She paused, "…actually two of the guys that lived across the street from us would occasionally borrow it from me to go shooting at the range. There was one next door that knew too. But, I don't think they knew what drawer or dresser or anything, just that I kept it in our bedroom."

"_So, how long did any of them keep it when they borrowed it?"_

"Umm…A few hours mostly. But Pepper, sometimes he would keep it for a few days and weeks at a time. It wasn't a big deal because I never used it, and he always returned it in spotless condition."

"_Who is Pepper?"_

"Pepper lived across the street, and no I can't remember what his _actual_ name was."

"_Well…okay how about you just give me all of the names of people who you talked to that lived around you."_

Helga sighed, racking her brain. It had been a long time, she didn't know if she could remember everybody, "Uh…Casey and Seth are two of the ones that lived next door. Umm…Daniel…or David maybe…I can't remember. Something like that lived across the street…with Pepper and a girl named Madison. There were others that hung out regularly over there too."

"_Like?"_

"Like… I can't even _begin_ to recall _all_ of their names," She answered honestly, "It was at least another 10 or 12 people. I remember there were two guys named Zack and Cameron that hung around a lot. Less frequently were Wolfgang and Sid and…"

"_Wolfgang and Sid?"_

"Yeah them. They and Torvald would come around on occasion with Zack. Like that really matters though; they didn't come around enough to…" She trailed off, falling silent.

On the other end, Phoebe had begun jotting down the names that Helga had rattled off. Even though she was recording the entire conversation, she didn't want to have to replay it back every time she wanted something useful.

"…_None of them knew anything about me owning a firearm much less where I kept it. They would show up for the parties and vamoose by dawn," _Helga concluded.

"Were any of them into…"

"-_Drugs?_ _Some of them were, not like hardcore or anything. Most of them just liked to party and have a good time."_

Phoebe turned away from her writing and stared at the receiver. She could recall the wild parties that were thrown up and down that particular street. It wasn't dubbed "_college town_" simply because the school owned most of the houses that students rented, it had a reputation to uphold. A reputation of epic parties. She and Gerald had attended a handful of them during their freshman year as it had been the thing-to-do.

"Well, it just helps to take inventory."

"_I suppose, but I highly doubt it will be of any use…"_

Phoebe stole a glance at the clock, seeing it to be 6:15 a.m. She was amazed. It didn't feel like she'd been on the phone for over an hour. Time flew when things were interesting. She'd gotten most of what she wanted out of Helga, and she was over the moon about it. There were so many other things she wanted to ask, but ultimately elected not to.

"Where are you going when you leave the hospital?"

"_My sister's." _

The answer struck Phoebe as odd, considering what she knew, or at least thought she knew, of Helga's relationship with Olga. She had expected to hear of her going back to rehab, or at the very least to her parents.

She didn't have time to dwell on it and she _really_ needed to be getting off the phone. She still needed to collect her thoughts on everything and devise a strategy to present her theory to Gerald so that he had no choice _but_ to reconsider.

"Alright…well…I'm going to let you go."

"_So what happens now?"_

"I don't know. I won't know until I can cross-check some things," Phoebe heard a sigh on the far end. "Just sit tight for now, okay? I'll talk to you later."

"_Alright. Bye…Thank you,"_ Helga added awkwardly.

"You're welcome," When she heard the dial tone, she clicked off the phone and the recorder.

Phoebe reclined back in the chair, running her hands through her hair. That was intense; her adrenalin was pumping and her heart still pounding. She felt excited, she felt motivated, but she also felt guilty. She knew she shouldn't, because her adventure had proved potentially fruitful and she felt really good about that. How could Gerald be mad after she shoveled all of this material on him? A bad feeling began brewing in the pit of her stomach.

She decided that she probably just needed some coffee to settle her nerves.

She twirled around and exited the office and headed into the kitchen. When she rounded the corner she nearly leaped out of her skin when she saw Gerald standing in front of the coffee maker, spooning in grounds from a can.

"-Morning," He put aside the can and pressed the 'On' button.

"Good morning," Phoebe greeted, somewhat strained, "Um…how long have you been awake?"

She took a seat at the counter, hoping she didn't look suspicious or what not. She was terrible at hiding things.

"About 10 minutes," He pulled two mugs out of the cabinet and set them on the counter, "I heard you on the phone in the other room."

"Oh… I hope that didn't wake you."

"Nah."

The pair waited in silence until the coffee maker beeped. Gerald poured two steaming mugs, handing one over to Phoebe. "I'm going to go the couch," He gestured towards the living room.

Phoebe nodded and followed him into the room. He took a seat at the couch, but she elected to lean against the arm of an adjacent chair.

"Did you go on a cleaning spree?" He looked around.

_More than you know. _She shrugged, "I couldn't sleep."

He smirked and took a sip of his smoldering Joe, "I've got so much shit to do today."

Phoebe didn't reply. Her gaze was fixated on a patch of carpet, deep in her own thoughts. "What's up with you this morning? You seem…reserved," Gerald asked.

She broke her stare and caught his concerned eyes. Exhaling, she said, "Gerald…we need to talk."

He frowned, "Why? Is…is there something wrong?"

"Yes, there is something _very_ wrong," She nodded, but said no more.

"What is it? Are you…Are you sick? Are you hurt? Are you…I don't know…Come on Phoebe, you're scaring me here," He pleaded.

"I'm truly sorry for this, I really am. I went through your files this morning and I found a lot of stuff that just doesn't make sense to me. And…I just wanted to know if…there was more to it than appeared, so I…called her and asked her some questions. That's who I was on the phone with this morning. You were right when you said the rabbit hole went much deeper than you anticipated."

Over on the couch, she could see the muscles in Gerald's cheeks bulge as he clinched his jaw and a steely hardness mask his eyes.

* * *

**A/N:** So I changed my mind. I know that last time I said that there would be lots of Gerald action in the next chapter, but I was kind of itching to get Phoebe more involved sooner. I wrote this thinking, this is probably something Phoebe would do. For most of the story she's kept a neutral opinion. I've always figured though that if she ever did go through those two files, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from trying to solve it because of her need to be right.


	16. As Sure as the Sun

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**As Sure as the Sun**

"I'm looking for a pretty dope fiend,

Someone more tragic than me,

I'm searching for a pretty dope fiend,

A mother to the faculty,

I'm leaning on the corner with a magazine,

With something in between,

Caught sight of my pretty dope queen,

Hanging out with another scene." - The Delinquents (Pretty Dope Fiend)

* * *

"I'm truly sorry for this, I really am. I went through your files this morning and I found a lot of stuff that just doesn't make sense to me. And…I just wanted to know if…there was more to it than appeared, so I…called her and asked her some questions. That's who I was on the phone with this morning. You were right when you said the rabbit hole went much deeper than you anticipated."

Over on the couch, she could see the muscles in Gerald's cheeks bulge as he clinched his jaw and a steely hardness mask his eyes.

"You did what?" He looked like he was trying very hard not to combust.

"I had a conversation with Helga this morning, concerning questions that I had about certain aspects of Arnold's murder," Phoebe reiterated.

She didn't want an argument, but it seemed that there wasn't going to be a way to avoid it now.

And she was correct. Only a moment passed before Gerald blew, "Why would you do that?" He boomed.

"Did you expect me to just ignore it?" Phoebe held her ground, unfazed by his explosion.

"I expected you to stay out of it!"

"You _expected_ me to stay out of it? I assumed a little differently with you constantly seeking my opinion on the matter!"

Gerald had risen from the couch and begun pacing around, moving further and further away from Phoebe, as if she'd just burned him, "I _wanted_ somebody to talk through theories with, Phoebe!"

She shot him an incredulous glare, "No, what you _wanted _was somebody to _agree_ with you! Aren't you even the slightest bit curious about what I might have to tell you?"

"No, I'm not. Why would I be? She's already admitted that she killed him! What would she say now that wouldn't completely be buyer's remorse?"

"You see, this is the problem Gerald, you are _so_ blinded by what you _want_ to have happened that you won't even _consider_ other alternatives!"

Gerald gawked, "I'm not blinded by anything!" He roared.

"So your very vocal dislike for her isn't a blinder?"

"Well, excuse me for not feeling warm and fuzzy about her! I dislike her, because my friend is dead because of—"

"-You disliked her _before_ Arnold died!" Phoebe snapped. Her blood was pumping now and she could feel her face begin to heat up in anger. Gerald could only blink, his mouth still unhinged.

"_Look_, I get it, you guys were like brothers, but he was an adult, and he could make his own choices. To target Helga, simply because _you_ didn't like that _he_ picked her, is grossly negligent! Especially when it's quite possible that she had nothing to do with his death!"

Gerald shook his head in disbelief, "Boy, she must have blown _all_ _types_ of smoke up your ass…"

"If you're referring to the same smoke you've been blowing up your own ass, no," Phoebe remarked snidely, "But she did have a lot of things to say that made _much more_ sense than what's been laid out."

"She. Cannot. Be. Trusted! How can you be so naive?"

She snorted, rolling her eyes as a very cynical smirk darted cross her reddening face, "Okay, _fine_, I'm naïve, but you know what Gerald?" She said hotly, "Since you've brought those files home, you've only been able to talk about how lazy of a job cops did on this case to allow it to go cold without a care. And yet, here you are, guilty of doing a half-ass job yourself. I know that you're desperate to see this thing solved, we all are, but you owe it to yourself and to Arnold to do it right!"

Gerald blanched, "I can't believe you would say that!"

"I said it, because you need to hear it," Phoebe had had enough with the back and forth and marched out of the room.

"Where are you going?" He demanded. She didn't answer him but he didn't bother following her either, still too stunned by her words. Luckily she was only gone for a few seconds, storming back into the room with folders and parchment in hand.

She blew past him and grabbed his white board from the corner, yanking it into the middle of the room and proceeded to erase his scribbles. He gawked in absolute horror.

"What the hell are you doing?"

She ignored him, continuing her rampant eradication of his notes. When she finished, she grabbed one of his manila folders and cracked it open, flipping till she found what she wanted. She dropped the file onto the coffee table and pointed.

Gerald's eyes instinctively followed her index.

"Do you see that?"

His eyes rested upon a photo that he was extremely familiar with. The picture of the one drawer on Helga Pataki's dresser that was open.

"What about it?" He crossed his arms in irritation.

"Doesn't that look _awful_ small to be keeping a firearm in, Gerald?"

"What does it matter?"

Phoebe exhaled a very vexed sigh, "Well, I thought it did! So I asked her where she kept the gun, and do you know what she said? Bedside table, bottom drawer."

"Okay, let me guess then. She said that she kept _nothing_ in that sock drawer? Is that right?" He laughed.

"_Wrong._"

Phoebe watched his face sober into a cautious glare, "She kept drugs and money in that drawer. So…" She twirled around, grabbing the white board marker and pointing to the smaller square labeled 'BR', "That being said and I believe it to be true, then according to your theory of events she would have followed Arnold up stairs, threw his stuff around, he goes down stairs."

"She then goes to the bedside table, grabs the gun, takes the time to _close_ the drawer, grabs the cash and drugs out of the sock drawer, leaves that drawer open, goes down stairs, shoots Arnold, tosses gun and then flees?"

Gerald remained silent and Phoebe continued, "She and Arnold and Bob were not the _only_ ones that knew she had a firearm either."

She grabbed the notepad she'd brought on her return and tossed it at him, "Turns out, several of the guys that lived around them liked to go to the target range. They frequently borrowed that pistol from her. I've starred their names."

Gerald's eyes crawled over the parchment, "And who are the rest?"

"Others that lived around or frequently came around. There are a few familiar names on there."

"Wolfgang? Torvald? Sid?"

"I imagine that those three will be the easiest to find."

Gerald sighed and dropped the notepad back onto the coffee table, "What are you implying?"

"You and I both know that almost nobody that lived around there was ever interviewed and one elderly neighbor citing that they had a nasty fight the night of isn't going to cut it. _You_ need to find these people and _you_ need to find out what they know."

Gerald remained quiet for a few moments, appearing to mull over things before finally saying, "What do you think, Phoebe?"

"What do you mean, 'what do I think?'"

"What is your grand theory of everything? You've had no problem tearing mine apart, I want to hear yours."

She thought he'd never ask and she wasted no time diving in. "I think one of the guys that borrowed the gun did it. With particular emphasis on 'Pepper.' Nobody would have thrown a weapon down at a crime scene unless they knew something about it. If Helga was truly evil enough to do something like this, she surely wouldn't have left a weapon that had _any_ potential to be traced back to her on the floor. But somebody else might."

Gerald scoffed, "But if she was drunk enough then—"

"-_If_ she'd been _that_ drunk, then Arnold wouldn't have been trying to pick a fight, much less _announce _that he was leaving her. You know he was _not_ the type of person that would share a decision of that scale in a situation like that," Phoebe paused to regain her breath. "I truly believe that she legitimately does _not_ know what happened. Your little Lila rouse made that _perfectly _clear. I believe that they were fighting that night but I think that she _left_ and got blackout drunk, which has to mean that somebody else was in that house at some point _besides_ them. Maybe that person was hanging out or maybe they broke in, I don't know. That's why we need to find these people."

Through Phoebe's speech, Gerald had begun pacing around again. He continued this for a bit after she'd finished before finally catching her questioning gaze. Her eyes were pleading with him, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything and he looked away. Finally, with a sigh, he turned and began walking out of the room.

"Where are you going?" He heard Phoebe ask.

"I just…need to be alone, okay? I can't even _think_ right now."

And he left.

* * *

"When did it snow?" Helga looked around, examining the white fluff blanketing the natural areas that hugged the curbs of the parking lot.

"Yesterday," Olga said before walking off to the left. Helga trotted after her, allowing her to lead the way to the car.

As planned, she had been able to check out, as the doctors saw no further complications (that could be physically dealt with, that is) that warranted an extended stay. They had fitted her into a nice little arm sling, wrote her a prescription for an antibiotic, and sent her on her way. She'd be back in about 2 weeks to have her stitches removed.

When the two sisters reached Olga's SUV they silently climbed inside, buckled up and headed off. The drive was quiet, for the most part, neither feeling the need to feel the silence with conversation. It was rather nice. Helga was too busy replaying her phone call with Phoebe over and over in her head to desire conversation anyway. But she did finally snap from her thoughts when she saw that they were pulling off of the highway onto Olga's exit.

"Do you mind stopping by a gas station?" Helga turned away from the window.

"Sure."

They traveled in silence down the highway a few more miles before Olga pulled off into a station and parked.

"Actually, could I borrow like…$5?" Helga asked with a small smirk.

Olga whipped a twenty-dollar bill out of her purse and handed the tender over, "Get me a Coke while you're in there, please. Diet."

"Will do. Thanks," Helga nodded and hopped out of the vehicle.

It took her less than two minutes to find the goods that she needed. She fetched Olga's diet coke, picked out her favorite brand of cigarettes, a lighter and paid.

Olga sat sporting a stern look as her sister climbed back into the SUV. Helga handed over her change, and drink, feeling a bit like being a child again while trying to ignore her older sister's eyes that were fixated disapprovingly on the small box in her hand.

"Yeah, yeah I know, disgusting habit, you've told me…but you know that they wouldn't give me painkillers and trust me; I'll need these to take the edge off of _everything,_" Helga tried to brush it off, but Olga still seemed unconvinced.

"I better not catch you smoking in my house," She warned, though with no real severity in her tone.

"I would never smoke in your house. Do you ever smell smoke on me?"

"No."

"See, I'm clean about it."

Olga left it at that and put the car in gear and in moments they were back on the road again. They drove for another 10 minutes before pulling off into a well kept neighborhood entrance adorned with a sign that read _Candlebrook. _They wound their way through the streets to the very back of the neighborhood where Olga and Grant's house resided.

Helga had really grown to love staying here her first go round. It was a tranquil neighborhood. They lived far enough outside of the city not to be bothered by much noise, but close enough to hop in the car and go on any given day. It was a nice balance she thought.

They pulled into Olga's drive way and Helga noticed her snow covered SUV parked over in the guest driveway off to the right of the garage.

"Hang up the gazes; you aren't getting your keys for awhile."

Helga cracked a smile at Olga, who sported a grin herself. They pulled into the garage, closed the door and scurried inside as it was still rather cold even in the enclosure. They walked into the kitchen and Helga was immediately engulfed by the scent of holiday spices. Apple pie, cinnamon, maybe even pumpkin. All of the scents that evoke the warm holiday feelings on bitter cold days.

As they walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, she noticed that Olga had redecorated since she'd last been over. The house had a modern-earthy scheme with deep rich colors that went well with the hardwood floors and the newly stoned fireplace.

Olga had always had impeccable taste.

Over in a recliner near the gentle fire, Grant was out like light, scarcely audible snores escaping his mouth.

"Grant, dear," Olga called.

The brown haired man jumped awake, batting his eyes a few times before coming to focus on his wife and sister-in-law. "Oh, hey! You weren't gone long. Hey Helga!"

"Hey!" Helga greeted.

Olga shook her head, "No, there was hardly any traffic."

"I guess nobody felt like going out today. How are you feeling?"

Helga knew that last part was directed at her. "I'm okay, actually," She nodded.

Grant smiled in approval.

"Um, is my room still my old room?" Helga asked Olga, gesturing off towards a hallway.

Her sister nodded, "Yep, all of your stuff should be there."

"Cool. I think I'm going to go hop in the shower. It's been about three days and I feel _disgusting_."

"Go right ahead."

With that, Helga padded off down the hallway where her room resided at the very end on the left. When she walked in, she found it as tastefully redecorated as the rest of the house. She strolled around taking in everything. She pulled open a few drawers and saw various articles of her clothing neatly folded inside and the closet filled with the rest. On top of the bedside table lay her wallet, and her phone with its charger coiled into a ball. She flipped open the wallet, seeing her debit card, credit card and some cash. She put that down and grabbed her phone next. As expected, when she flipped it open, it was dead. She unwound the charging cord, plugged it into the nearest outlet, hooked it up to the phone and waited.

After a moment, it booted up, revealing 60-something missed calls, almost as many voicemails and 1 ½ times as many unread text messages. It was surprising to her, but not all that shocking; she had, after all, seemingly dropped off the face of the earth.

She began scrolling through the missed calls, seeing the names of those that she frequently hung around with. She then moved on to the texts, seeing largely the same names with messages wanting to know: what happened, where she is, is something wrong, why she isn't answering her phone, why they haven't heard from her, did they make her mad, ect, ect.

She didn't feel like listening to the voicemails, as she figured that they said largely the same things as the text messages did. She sat the phone back down, vowing to deal with it later. At the moment, she _really_ wanted that shower. After some plundering around in her dresser drawers, she located a fresh set of clothes. Nabbing a towel from the hall closet, she then sealed herself off in the bathroom located across from her bedroom.

In the bathroom she popped off her brace, gel pack and bandaging and took a peek at her swollen forearm. It wasn't much better looking, but, then again, it had only been about 72 hours since she first diced it open. What did she expect? Moving on, she pulled off the rest of her clothes, flipped the faucets and stepped into the delightfully warm shower of water. It was the best feeling ever, and she stood there for the longest time just enjoying it. When it came to actually getting clean, she grossly underestimated the challenge it would be to effectively use one hand, while keeping the other bone dry.

_Stupid stitches. _

Sometime later, and slightly more agitated than she's hoped, she stepped out of the shower, clean as a whistle. While she dried herself off she noticed a basket on the sink counter containing a new tooth brush, tooth paste, soap and the like. All brands that she personally liked using too. Olga was remarkably observant, she would give her that. And incredibly thoughtful with her placement of things. Helga felt like she'd never left.

She dressed, brushed her teeth and decided that this was as good of time as ever to go have a smoke and start making some phone calls. On her way out, she stopped by the kitchen to drop her gel pack into the freezer. The pain was manageable at the moment, but she didn't want to get caught later without it. When she opened the freezer door, she saw, to no surprise, another frosty pack waiting.

Olga had struck again.

She smiled and tossed hers in and grabbed the fresh one, placing it on her forearm and gently fastening her brace. With that, she headed towards the back of the house, crossing through the living room to a pair of sliding glass doors. Grant was, one again, asleep in the chair with the TV on. She didn't see her sister anywhere.

Sliding open the door, she stepped out into the frigid air and skipped over to the patio area near the pool. The snow in the backyard was trampled with snow men, snow animals and other snow creatures. It was no secret that her nephews had been out playing today.

She located a dry chair and flopped down. That first drag off of a cigarette after having been forced to go cold turkey was almost better than sex. She sat there and enjoyed it for a moment before turning her attention to her phone.

As she scrolled through her phone book, she knew that there were some people that she wasn't going to call back. They didn't mean that much to her personally. In reality, she knew she probably shouldn't be calling _any_ of these people back, however, those that she was close to she felt deserved to know _something_.

She started with Aubrey. Her partner in crime. She pressed the send button and waited.

The girl picked up, and what she said made Helga laugh. "No, I'm not dead," She replied.

* * *

**A/N:** Quick chapter. Moving along though. Still a little ways to go but more than halfway done. Phoebe is on a roll and poor Gerald has a severely bruised ego. I guess we'll have to see if he comes around. Until next time, thank you all for your eyeballs and reviews. They are very much appreciated!


	17. How Dirty Girls get Clean

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**How Dirty Girls Get Clean**

"Going up when coming down,

Scratch away,

It's the little things that kill,

Tearing at my brians again,

The little things that kill." -Bush (Little Things)

* * *

The girl picked up, and what she said made Helga laugh. "No, I'm not dead," She replied.

"_Well where the hell have you been? My God, I've been trying to get a hold of you for like…ever!"_

"Pssh…where haven't I been. They threw my happy ass in jail after that party, then carted me off to rehab and now…" She took a drag, "…I'm at my sister's house for awhile."

"_Damm… really?"_ Aubrey's voice ended high with perplexity. "_That sucks. What a waste of time. How'd they get you?"_

Helga frowned slightly, "I freakin' overdosed."

"_Yeah right."_

"Why would I lie about that?"

"_Wait…whaaat? Dude, that…that's crazy. I had no idea."_

"Yeah…well…"

"_Geez, sorry about that. I feel like shit for ever inviting you now."_

Helga cleared her throat, "'tis not like you held a gun to my head or anything."

"_So...you're staying at your sisters? That explains a lot. I went by your apartment and somebody else was living there. One of the reasons I thought you were dead."_

"Yeah… my dad seems to have _commandeered_ my stuff," Helga noted with distaste.

"_Wow…that friggin' sucks. So anyway, I guess you'll be coming back soon though, huh?"_

"Probably not," Helga exhaled her last drag, put her cigarette out in the snow and threw the butt on the table, "I'm done with it. I'm finished with all of that lifestyle."

Aubrey snorted, _"Yeah…sure you are."_

"I'm _serious_…I'm clean right now…as a whistle….and I just want to _try_ to, I don't know, move on to something else in my life."

Silence.

"_You've got to be kidding me. You're seriously bailing on me?"_

"Yeah… I guess I'm bailing."

_"Wow…"_

Helga rolled her eyes, "Crimeny, is it so hard to believe?"

"_Frankly? Yeah…it is. I've never seen you stick to anything."_

"Things are different. I can't even _begin_ to explain everything to you. Just know that I _am_ serious about this. The only reason I'm calling you is because you're my best friend and I think you deserve to know."

"_Alright…fine…whatever then. Thanks for calling I guess."_

Helga exhaled, "Aubrey…"

"_I've got to go. I'll…talk to you later…or something."_

"Fine…bye,"Helga waited for a similar response but got none. Pulling the phone away she clicked the end button and a very pathetic sigh escaped her lips as the desolate feeling of change began to fully grip her insides. She was no naive individual, she knew she wouldn't be able to continue being friends with those people, but becoming friendless felt worse than she imagined.

Very…isolated.

She shook her head and dug out another cigarette as she shoved the thought to the back of her mind, not wishing to dwell on it any further for the time being. Lighting up, she quickly scrolled through her contacts again, finding another soon-to-be-ex-friend that she desired to talk to.

His phone rang for what felt like forever, and she almost hung up when his rough voice crackled through the other end. _"Boy howdy, girl, did you finally decide that you aren't mad at everybody anymore?"_ Sid inquired without as much as a 'hey.'

"Hello to you too. Mad? Who said I was mad?" Helga quirked a brow and exhaled a puff of smoke.

"_I've been trying like hell to get a hold of you." _

"And so you assumed that I was mad?"

"_Well…yeah. And you haven't come barging through my window in awhile."_

Helga laughed, "I'm not mad at anyone; I've just been…pre-occupied is all."

"_I hear you. It's cool. Aubrey thinks you're dead. I ran into her at a buddy's house and she was convinced. I was like, 'bitch, she's probably just pissed off at something.' Make sure you call her."_

"Yeah, I just got off the phone with her a minute ago actually," Helga said moodily, though she felt her spirits trying to lift with Sid's typical uppity disposition.

"_Cool. So what are you up to?"_

"Sitting outside, having a smoke. Did you just wake up?"

"_Yeah, you woke me up."_

"Want me to call you back?"

"_Nah, you're fine. I'm up now. Want to come over or something?"_

"I'm not even in Hillwood right now."

"_Bummer. So what have you been doing all this time?"_

"It's a… long story, which is why I call—"

"_What?" _Sid snapped and Helga could sense that it was directed toward somebody else on his end. "_Hold on a second," _He said into the phone before turning his attention back to whoever he was talking to, _"What now? I don't care… ' . Make them whatever way you want, damn..."_

Helga could hear the very faint murmurs of a woman on the other end and assumed that it was his girlfriend.

"_What does it matter who I'm talking to?" _He sighed loudly, _"I'll call you back later…"_

"Alright," Helga replied and Sid hung up the phone.

She tossed the phone onto the table, feeling mentally exhausted. That hadn't gone has planned. Now she'd have to start the process all over when she talked to him again and steel herself a second time for the internal torment of knowing that it was the end of their friendship.

What agonizing torture.

The wind blew and sent an icy chill sweeping through her entire body, jarring her thinking spell. It felt like it was getting colder, maybe it was, and probably a good time to go back inside. She didn't feel like making anymore phone calls that day…or ever.

But she had to, and that thought alone made her groan as she collected her belongings and then hiked back into the house.

Just as she was sliding the door shut, Olga came rounding the corner into the living room, "Oh, I was just about to come get you." She halted, "I'm making lunch. I hope you're a chicken salad fan."

"Yeah…sounds great," Helga forced a smile.

* * *

**Monday**

Helga dragged herself into the kitchen, still wiping the remaining bits of sleep from her slightly blurry eyes. The house was eerily quiet and she had to remind herself that it was a Monday morning and everybody was at work or school. That being said, it also meant that Olga wasn't making her breakfast, not that she expected it, but it did mean that she'd have to rummage around in the cabinets for something breakfast related to eat. After a brief search, she managed to locate a stash of cereal in the bottom cabinets and began rooting through boxes, deciding between the overly fibrous looking healthy cereal and the overly sugary kid's cereal.

She found herself not terribly in the mood to chow down on fibrous cardboard, so the sugary cereal was going to have to do and, _hopefully_, the boys wouldn't notice any missing. As she collected a bowl, spoon and milk she noticed a half of pot of coffee still on and grabbed a cup of that as well. Clean from cocaine now, she'd come to rely on coffee as her pick-me-up like normal people and she found it to be quite an enjoyable beverage.

She ate in silence and casually read the back of the cereal box for entertainment, an embarrassingly dumb habit from childhood that she'd never grown out of.

_Whatever, nobody's around_.

No sooner had the thought materialized than she found her silent meal being interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing down the stairs and into the living room. She curiously, but cautiously leaned over the bar and peered around the corner. Olga came around, prancing into the kitchen, swinging an empty coffee cup in hand with mirth radiating in her face.

"Good morning!" She beamed when she saw Helga.

"It's morning all right," Helga smirked.

Olga breezed past her and proceeded to refill her coffee cup.

"No work today?" Helga swiveled around in her chair to face her sister.

The older blonde shook her head and took a sip of coffee, "Plenty of work. I've just moved everything to my home office three days a week now."

'_Oh_' Helga mouthed.

Olga was in the business of fine art, sculptures, paintings, and things of the like. Art broker? Helga wasn't sure if that was the correct term, regardless, Olga acted as the middle man in transactions. People with stupid amounts of money commissioned her expertise to find them valuable pieces; she did and then got paid for doing so.

What a life.

But totally something Olga would find fulfillment and glee and…whatever else in.

"Oh! Before I forget," She abandoned her cup on the counter and moved to open up a cabinet across the kitchen near the sink. She grabbed a small brown bottle out of it and set it down on the counter next to Helga. "Antibiotic. Twice daily," She instructed.

Helga picked up the bottle and eyeballed it before dumping one into her hand, only to discover, to her dismay, it was another round of God awful horse-sized pills. "When did you pick these up?" She knocked back the offensive tablet with her coffee. "Pills shouldn't be this big," She choked.

"This morning. Yeah, I have a tough time with those kinds too."

"Crimeny, what time do you get up?"

Olga laughed, "At a sensible hour. You should try it."

Helga waved her off and turned back around to her cereal.

"I was actually surprised to see you just _now_ getting up."

"I slept like…a grand total of an hour after you left the hospital," Helga commented, recalling the night before and her afternoon. After getting off the phone with Aubrey and Sid, she'd eaten lunch and immediately crashed.

Olga walked around the bar and took a seat on the stool opposite of her sister. "Speaking of, how's your arm today?"

"Stingy and sore…but better I guess. I need to go get my gel pack and throw it in the freezer actually." Helga trailed off.

"I've got extra strength Tylenol in the cabinet. Don't be afraid to use it," Olga paused, "Let me ask you something."

Helga nodded as she finished up her bowl of cereal.

"What are your thoughts on Sender? Because I was thinking that we could move her over here. It's not like I don't have the extra room."

_Hmm. _Heavy conversation to start the morning… that was for sure.

Helga looked up, only able to blink momentarily. Reaching for her coffee and taking a sip, "I don't want her here," She replied firmly. When she lifted her lids again she found a swarm of confusion building in her sister's face and knew immediately that she'd probably sounded unintentionally cold.

"I just think that it might be for the best right now. I don't want to go moving her and get her out-of-whack and whatnot again," She divulged and a sense of relief washed over Olga. "Trust me, I _don't_ like her staying at Mom and Dad's, but I appreciate the stability."

"Fair enough. They were oddly resistant to the idea when I asked them about it last night anyway," Her sister reflected.

Helga rolled her eyes, "I'm sure that's _all_ Dad. He knows it aggravates me."

Olga only shook her head, completely unconvinced, "I don't think it's that. If anything, Daddy really just doesn't trust you. He's very…strongly opinionated about you at the moment," She said delicately.

Helga couldn't help but sport a look of amusement solely at Olga's ability to sugar-coat. What she _really_ meant to say was: that no less than three swear words left their father's mouth if Helga came up in conversation.

And if she had to guess she'd say he'd also probably cursed the moment of her conception 27 years ago by now.

She couldn't ignore the stinging pang that began radiating inside, knowing that her parents probably _actually_ thought she _was _capable of harming her child. No matter how cynically she spun it.

Oh the consequences of bad decision making.

Olga gave her an odd look. "What?"

"Nothing..." Helga blinked, snapping back to the conversation, "Just…thinking is all," She stood up, collected her empty bowl and cup and retreated to the sink.

Olga straightened and watched her retreating figure, "So, where do we start?"

"Start what? Rehabilitation?" Helga said distractedly, as she rinsed out the bowl, cup and placed them in the dishwasher, trying her best to curb the sudden onset of aggravation that had swept her.

"What else?"

She knew she had no business in the world being aggravated, none whatsoever, and so she took a calming breath and let it go.

Finally, she turned and leaned back against the counter, and crossed her arms delicately. "Toss me in the basement and throw away the key?" She answered Olga's question with a half-hearted joke, though by the look on the older blonde's face it fell flat.

She sighed, looked down, and bit her lip in thought. "Me moving on starts with a lifestyle change I suppose and…and finally opening up about Arnold and what happened because it's become the center pieces of my… depression. And, I know that I'm a born alcoholic, no question about that, but…I _do_ drink a lot because I'm unhappy, and I feel guilty, and I miss him, and I think that if it weren't for me he might still be alive, and because sometimes… it's hard to look at Sender," Helga shifted her weight and cast a shamed look at her sister. "That last bit sounds awful, I know…"

Olga shook her head, "No, it's not awful; it's…being human, unfortunately," She assured and waved her younger sister back over. Helga complied and took a seat.

"It's pretty bad in my opinion. I shouldn't have feelings like that towards my daughter."

"Elaborate."

Helga withdrew for a moment, but finally continued, "Well, it's like living with a constant physical reminder of him. And it's _not_ _just_ because he's her father, but the older she gets, the more she looks like him, the more she acts like him…. it's maddening how so much of her personality and mannerisms are _exactly_ like his. I mean, how the fuck is that?" She said hotly, "And sometimes it all becomes too much. Just too much. But, no, nobody ever thinks about what it's like to look at your kid and see a man that that you were positively in love with, but won't _ever_ see again. Not a clue. Not one Goddamn clue."

Olga blinked, her jaw slightly unhinged, "Are you finished?"

"What?" Helga snapped, bringing her eyes back to rest on her sister's shocked expression. It was then that she realized that she'd gotten too heated. She took a deep breath, "Yeah, I'm finished ranting. Sorry."

"You okay?"

Helga nodded, "I want to crack open a bottle of vodka right now, but you know, baby steps," A weak smile crossed her face quickly before she dropped her shoulders and looked down, "I'm not a total heartless monster. I love her more than anything else, I do. She's _the best_ part of my life," She paused momentarily, "I guess what it boils down to is…I can't figure out how to…consolidate the good and bad into a happy coexistence."

"Probably because your opinion is _so_ negative. Her likeness to Arnold shouldn't be the source of anguish. You should be happy that a little piece of his personality lives on. He's not completely gone," Olga explained, "I know a lot of your guilt stems from feeling like you failed him in life, I don't need you to even tell me to know that."

Helga nodded timidly.

"What I think you don't realize is that, by focusing so much on what _was_, you've _continued_ to fail him by not providing _his_ daughter with a _you_ that isn't absorbed in alcohol and drugs."

Helga's brows furrowed in heavy thought and a moment of silence settled between the two. "I guess I've never thought about it like that," She finally admitted sounding more than a little dumbstruck, "I mean, I have but...the way you put it makes a lot more sense."

"And it's a positive view of the same thing that you've chosen to view negatively."

Helga nodded, her eyebrows high on her forehead, "I guess it is. It's pretty startling how self-absorbed I can be."

"I think you just need to learn to see the glass half full instead of half empty all of the time," Olga suggested, "Use her as motivation against your other troubles. I suspect that you already do or you would've given up any attempt to play normal long ago. And I don't think you're a bad mother. You have the sweetest little girl who cant get enough of you. Really, I wish my boys fawned over me the way she fawns over you," She playfully chuckled.

Helga smiled, feeling here eyes become a bit watery, "I've got a great kid, I know."

"Hold that thought," Olga looked down and grabbed her buzzing phone off of its holster, scrolling her thumb around on it to check a text or an email, "I've got a client conference call in about an hour." She put the phone away.

"How are you so good that this?"

"At what? Finding positivity?"

"Yeah."

"Takes practice and will power. Why? Have I made you feel differently than before?"

"Yeah, it feels pretty good to get this stuff out," Helga ran a hand through her hair, "I don't know, I've got a lot of mulling to do. You've given me a lot of things to think about."

Olga smiled, "That's the point. To figure things out and actually heal. But, I don't want to overload you this morning so we'll come back to this later, how does that sound?"

"I'd like that," Helga returned the smile. "Oh yeah, I do have one more thing to tell you that I just thought about."

Olga nodded taking the last gulp from her mug.

"So, I had this, I don't know, weird dream or…hallucination after I blacked out from blood loss. Last ditched subconscious effort to stay alive? Anyway, I completely forgot about it when I woke up, but I was hanging…or dangling from something and Sender, who was much older, was there and she was yelling at me about how selfish I was. It made me think of you because I remember you telling me that not too long ago."

"So what I say doesn't go in one ear and out the other?" Olga teased.

Helga smirked, "No, not this time anyway," She furrowed her brows, "But you know the strange part about it was that Arnold was there. And he felt _so_ real. Like that feeling you have when somebody is in a room with you. You just know that they are there. In a way, it's kind of…scary that the mind is capable of creating that stuff."

"Or maybe he was there. Or perhaps you have a guardian angel?" Olga suggested with a shrug.

Helga rolled her eyes, "Please…"

"Tease me if you want, but you know me, I'm a more to life than meets the eye, glass half full type of gal." She flipped her wrist around and checked the time on her watch, "On that note, I need to get back to work before that calls starts," She stood up and took her cup to the sink.

"Oh, right, I guess…have fun with that."

Olga laughed, "Be prepared to continue this discussion either later today or tomorrow. No clamming up, do you understand?" She looked pointedly at Helga.

"I know, I know. I'm not going to clam up. I'll even make a list, how about that?"

Her sister smiled, "Make whatever you want, but just be prepared to continue our discussion."

Helga nodded and Olga began walking out of the kitchen, "Oh, I do have one more thing."

Olga paused, eye brows rising up her forehead.

"I need to find a lawyer."

"It's already being taken care of," Olga assured before smiling and walking out of the kitchen.

"Of course it is..." Helga murmured, "She thinks of everything."

Crimeny…she needed a smoke.

* * *

It had been over 24hrs since Phoebe and Gerald had last spoken to one another. When he had left the room, she had heeded his wishes and left him alone, assuming he'd come around in an hour or two. Perhaps she _had_ underestimated his fury. Here it was, the following morning and he still hadn't made a peep. It made her almost beside herself with anger that he could be _so_ stubborn. He'd walled himself up in their study and remained there for much of the day. He hadn't even come to bed that night and a quick check of the living room told her that he'd slept on the couch.

When she'd gotten up that morning she had quickly called into work citing that she needed a personal day, and being that she hadn't missed a single day since she'd started, they were all too willing to grant her the request. To tell the truth, she was burnt out, and with Gerald still not speaking to her, there was no way she was going to be able to go to work and actually concentrate.

She leaned against the counter, in relative silence, save for the ticking of the toaster oven working to brown her morning breakfast. It dinged, and she retrieved the two pieces of toast, quickly spreading an orange marmalade across them and chowed down, all the while, finding it harder and harder to ignore her anger with Gerald's anti-social behavior. By the time she got to the last bite, she was chewing was downright aggressive.

She threw her plate into the sink before stomping out of the kitchen, and down the hallway until she came to stand in front of their closed office door, where she hesitated for only a second before throwing it open. Gerald was seated at the desk, head in his hands as if he was thinking, or reading, she couldn't tell, but he didn't budge, not even to look at her.

"Well? Are you just going to hole up in here forever?" She asked point blank.

After a few moments, he slowly dropped his arms and turned around to face her. "What do you want?" He said in a tone that indicated that she was clearly the last person he wished to see.

Despite the pang of his tone, Phoebe's jaw set and she stepped further into the room, "I want to know when you're going to stop this moping."

"I'm not moping," He insisted.

"Yes, you are."

"Why are you even home?"

"Because," She exhaled, "I couldn't bring myself to go to work with you acting like this."

Gerald rolled his eyes, in disbelief and whirled back around in the chair.

She wanted to yell, she wanted to scream, she wanted to grab the printer off of the shelf next to her and chunk it at his head. Yet, despite all that, she managed to do what she always did, she closed her eyes and centered herself, releasing a calming breath.

If there was one thing that she prided herself on, it was her ability to rationalize problems. She was angry at him for being angry at her, _and_ his utterly _amazing_ ability to be stubborn, but she also realized that, part of his lashing out was out of hurt, and she hadn't been the most sensitive to that. Perhaps if she could get that under control she could better manage his _other_ problems.

She opened her eyes. "Gerald," She began slowly and inched closer to him, "I know that you're angry with me for… going behind your back but…I didn't do it to undermine you, or hurt you or…or any of those things. I did it to help."

He visibly tensed his shoulders before exhaling a breath and turned to her, eyes fixed to the floor, "I know," He said softly.

Phoebe blinked momentarily and stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. The contact forced him to meet her gaze, "I'm sorry," She apologized, "I…I should have waited instead of dumping this in your lap."

He shook his head, "No, you did what you thought was best," A ghost of a smile crossed his lips, "You and I are…too much alike for our own good sometimes. We're both driven to get to the bottom of a problem, even if it means overriding the other. I was being ridiculous. It doesn't stop me from being mad, but…" He trailed off.

Phoebe raised a brow, "Does that mean that you're taking me…seriously?"

"I just want to see this case solved…the _right_ way," He spun around and clicked the mouse, causing the computer screen to flip on. "Don't expect me to be cordial with _her_ though. I still think she has _something_ to hide. She says one thing and does another…_completely_ abrasive."

"She's less abrasive than you think, and if you listen to our conversation on your recorder, you'll see just _how_ cooperative she _can_ be."

Gerald didn't respond, instead choosing to navigate into his email account. He opened one particular and leaned in to read it, smiling by the time he was a few words in.

"What's that?" Phoebe inquired.

"Martha Wexler from the University's housing department." Gerald glanced up at her, "I sent an email to them earlier this morning asking for access to their housing records for 'College Town'…uh, 'Stanley Street.'"

"Oh."

"She just told me that, as official business, it's okay for me to come by and pull the files that I want," He gestured to the screen while his gaze remained firmly fixed on Phoebe's visibly gob smacked expression. He perked a brow, "This is what you wanted isn't it?"

The raven haired woman's mouth pressed into a thin line, "And your reason for doing this? Is it to try to prove me wrong?" Her voice was chilly.

Gerald's face fell, "No, that's not at all why I'm doing this. Look…I was pretty hateful yesterday but…you were right. I'm leaving many stones unturned and I'm just...getting on track again."

"Really?" Phoebe's face softened slightly, though skepticism still hooded her eyes.

Gerald nodded, "Yes. You think I've been moping, but I haven't. I've been working this entire time."

"And too prideful to come out and talk to me."

"Something to that effect," He muttered. Shaking his head as he reached out and touched her hand, "I'm an ass, I know. I don't want to fight with you about this anymore…it makes me…more miserable than I already am."

Phoebe smiled and placed her hand over top his, "I don't want to fight anymore either."

He smiled, "So, do you want to ride with me to check out these records? I've got to get the full names of these neighbors. I'm particularly interested in Pepper."

Phoebe perked a brow, "So, Pepper has intrigued you as much as me."

"He seems like somebody I want to talk to. Oh, and by the way, I found your audio." He stood up and motioned for them to exit the room and Phoebe walked ahead of them.

"I figured as much. Have you looked into Sid, Wolfgang and Torvald yet?"

Gerald nodded, "Yeah. I did that first. I'm not _terribly_ concerned with them off the bat. Wolfgang is clean as a whistle, Sid has nothing but a DUI and an arrest for fighting and Torvald is in another state serving time for sexual assault."

"And none of that concerns you at all?" Phoebe shifted uncomfortably as Gerald opened the front door and ushered her out into the cold, handing her, her jacket in the process.

"If she's telling the truth, which is about as mythical as a unicorn, then they're last on my list," He explained while wiggling on his own jacket, "For now, I at least want to put a name of _this_ guy."

"Fair enough. Let's go. It's freezing out here," She shivered.

* * *

"Hi! Is Martha Wexler around?" Gerald asked a middle-aged brown haired women sitting behind the counter in of a dingy and aged office. She peered over her square spectacles to fix him with a quizzical glare. "She's out of the office at the moment. What can I help you with?" She replied without an ounce of pep in her monotone voice.

Gerald slightly smirked, "I spoke with her via email about looking up some housing records of a particular year."

"And why might you need these records, sir?"

The dark skinned man reached into his jacket pocket, withdrew his shinny badge and placed it down on the counter to be inspected. "Official business," He said.

The woman didn't seem any more interested than before, but pushed back from her desk anyway. "Come this way," Her voice remained lifeless as she got up and motioned for him and Phoebe to follow her.

She led them through a narrow hallway and into a room that a dozen or more alphabetized shelves with dusty boxes. "Everything is alphabetized by street or dorm name. For example, if you're looking for records for Ferguson Street then you would look under 'F', if you're looking for records for 'Kelly House' then you would look under 'K,' and _not_ the street that the building is located on."

The pair nodded.

"These records are 2000 to current. If you need older ones, then they'll have to be retrieved from a different location. Any questions?"

"No, I think we can take it from here. Thank you," Gerald politely assured and the woman stealthily slunk out of the room.

Phoebe has already begun to investigate the 'S' section of boxes by the time Gerald turned around. "Luckily Stanley Street is the only 'S'," She commented at the moment he walked up behind her. "Here it is," She slid the box with the correct year off of the shelf and handed it to Gerald.

He looked around and seeing no table, gave Phoebe a shrug and slunk to the floor to sit Indian style. She joined him and he cracked open the lid and began thumbing through the neatly filed parchment organized by address number.

"What was their address again? 903?"

"904," She corrected.

"So that would make across the street the odd numbers and…" He trailed off, as he began pulling papers from the box. "Okay. Here is next door and the house across. Next door we have…Casey T. Reynolds and Seth M. Montgomery. Across the street is…David A. Wright, Weston T. Hayes and Madison J. Radke."

"It's Weston then. She mentioned David and Madison. Are their social security numbers listed?"

"They're partially marked out."

Phoebe sighed, "Figures."

"It's fine. I can still find him without it," Gerald assured her with a smile, "I just needed his real name." He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of each paper.

* * *

**A/N:** Long chapter. Sorry for the long wait to get this up. Anyway, Phoebe and Gerald are fixing to hit the investigation trail now that he's come around…kind of. Even if it isn't totally for the right reasons. Olga is teaching Helga to be positive. I guess both she and Gerald are stepping out of their comfort zones. Next up: Who the heck is Pepper? And should Sid or Torvald be of concern?


	18. Lien on your Dreams

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**Lien on your Dreams**

"There's a lien on your dreams,

That keeps you going under,

And a hole in the floor,

That drops us all together,

You can fight all you like but there's no way to hide,

All the lines on your face,

Show you've got no place in this." -Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (Lien on your Dreams)

* * *

"_Are you going to take pictures of everything?" Arnold glanced over his shoulder just in time to be blinded by the sudden white flash of a camera. _

"_Um, yes. These are memories babe," Helga giggled and hopped around him to snap another picture of him sitting on the floor, doing battle with the pieces of an Ikea TV stand. _

_He waved her off, "I'm blind now! Shoo, paparazzi! Come back when I'm done," He smiled. _

"_Or, I'll just help you with this thing," She sat down across from him, gathering the instructions while he screwed two boards together into what looked to be a future drawer. _

_It was day 3 of their move in, the first night that they'd be staying in their new house, and neither could be more thrilled. The prospect of peace and quiet and room to put everything was reason enough for one to fall to their knees and rejoice For almost a month, the vast majority of Helga's stuff had remained boxed up in a spare room of the boarding house, and she and Arnold had been practically living on top of each other in his. It had sucked, for lack of a better way of terming it, but not enough to even think about going back to her house. She hadn't spoken to Bob once since their…blow out, and she hadn't any plans to break the ice anytime soon. He could go choke on a pork rind for all she cared. _

_That aside, enduring the noisy, crowded boarding house seemed to have been well worth it as Arnold had really hit the jackpot getting the house. It was a pretty well known fact that the houses on that particular street were the first to get snatched up before the school year because of their location and the totally reasonable rent for their size. _

"_You need the 'J' screws for the tracks," She pointed to the plastic package containing all the parts and pieces needed for assembly. _

"_Yes ma'am."_

_An hour and a half later they had a fully functioning TV stand, sturdy, level and with properly rolling bottom drawers that didn't stick. They were in business and Helga made sure she cited her fabulous supervisory skills for such an amazing job well done, to Arnold's great amusement. Together, they moved the stand against the wall and unboxed their new flat screen to put onto it, a house warming gift from Phil and Gertrude. She left him to the TV hook up, not really caring to get involved with that ordeal, instead pursuing their dinner plans and ordering a smorgasbord of Chinese take-out. _

"_Ta-da!" Arnold presented his handy work with wide arms as she re-entered the room some time later. _

_Helga walked up beside him, and wrapped an arm around his waist, "Looks nice. Now we need some cable," He draped his arm over her shoulders._

"_They'll be here at the end of the week," He kissed the top of her head, "What did you order me?"_

"_Cat."_

"_Tasty." _

"_With a side of dog. Should be here in about 45 minutes or so." _

"_Geez. That long? I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."_

_She peered up at him with a smart-ass grin playing on her lips, "Sorry, horse wasn't on the menu or I would have gotten it for you." _

_Arnold rolled his eyes, dropping his arm down around her and catching a particularly ticklish rib with his fingers. "Ah! No!" She bolted out of his grasp, preventing him from tickling her further. _

"_What? I wasn't doing anything," He innocently held his hands up. _

_Helga knew better, and made a show of it by rolling her eyes. There was nothing innocent about him, "Oh sure, football head," She placed her hands on her hips and looked around the room, "So what do you want to do to kill some time. I'm sick of un-packing this crap," Three days ago she was sick of everything being boxed up. Go figure._

_Arnold stepped forward, grabbing her waist and gently pulling her to him. "I can think of something," He grinned mischievously down at her. _

"_Oh? And what would that be?" She played along._

"_Well…" He kissed her, "We really need to go upstairs and put some sheets on our bed." _

_Helga smirked and ran her hands up his arms before draping them loosely around his neck, "You want to go make the bed just to mess it up? Seems a little… counter-productive, football head." _

_Arnold quirked an eyebrow, turning that over in his head, "You're right," He finally agreed and kissed her again, "That's too much work. We'll just throw the comforter down."_

_Next thing she knew, she was being hauled over his right shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Oomph! Y-ou brut!" She squealed. _

"_You love it!" He slapped her on the butt and laughed, "Now, let's get upstairs and get naked," He was already at the staircase, preparing to ascend them, and about halfway up; the door bell rang, halting him in his tracks. He looked at the door before sitting Helga down and giving her a thwarted look. "That was quick." They trudged back down the stairs. _

"_45 minutes my ass..." She grumbled. Let's just say she was in no mood for food anymore. _

_When Arnold opened the door, he'd expected to see a delivery guy with handfuls of previously anticipated take-out. Instead he found two guys that looked like frat boys, and a very artistically dressed girl standing on his front porch carrying a six pack of beer. _

"_Hi!" He said in polite wonder. _

"_Welcome to the block neighbors!" The guy holding the beer gleefully greeted. _

"_Oh, uh, thanks man!" Arnold smiled and the guy extended his hand._

"_-Names Pepper," They shook hands. The other guy offered up his hand next. _

"_I'm David." _

"_And I'm Madison," The girl said in a very charming voice as she shook his hand. _

"_Nice to meet you all. I'm Arnold and…" He glanced over and motioned Helga into view. _

"_I'm Helga," She stepped into view with a big smile, shaking all three of their hands. _

"_Brought you guys a little house warming gift," Pepper handed the six-pack over to Arnold._

"_Cool, appreciate it. So you guys live next door or—"_

"_Across the street. Some of our friends live to the right of you. Forewarning, you've got an old bat living on the other side." _

_Both Arnold and Helga laughed. "Yeah, we've met her."_

"_So, you guys freshies?" David asked._

"_Yep," Helga confirmed, "What about you?" _

"_Juniors. Almost everybody around here is a junior."_

"_Ah. We're the kids I guess," Arnold joked. _

"_Yeah."_

"_Don't worry," Pepper interjected, "We're not going to prank you or anything. But, it's a pretty fun block, so you guys should come over and chill sometime."_

"_Yeah, sure. That sounds great."_

"_Alright, well, nice meeting you two. See you around," They three stepped off the porch and waved. _

"_Thanks again for the beer!"Arnold and Helga waved back before closing the door. _

"_Nice people," Arnold mused. _

_Helga took the pack of beer from his hand and walked into the kitchen, "I'd say," He walked in behind her just as she was shoving the beverages into the fridge, two bottles being withheld on the counter, he noticed. _

_She popped the caps off and handed him one, while he leaned against the counter, "I think it's going to be nice here," He said and took a solid swig._

"_I think so too."_

"_Cheers?" He tipped his bottle at her. _

"_Cheers," She echoed and tilted up to kiss him. _

* * *

**Monday**

"Got it," Gerald called out as he moused around on his laptop. Phoebe came skipping into the living room, two mugs of hot chocolate in hand.

"Well?" She asked as she handed him a mug and took a seat next to him on the couch.

"He's clean as a whistle," Gerald replied in mild disappointment. "Nothing but a speeding ticket 4 years ago."

Phoebe frowned, "That's disappointing," She said and took a swig from her cup.

"He has 11 gun permits. 4 of them are exotic."

Her brow perked, "So he's still an avid shooter?"

"Or, at the very least, a collector."

"Where is he living?"

"About an hour and a half away in some obscure little town."

Phoebe leaned in and peered at the computer screen, "That figures."

"Doesn't it though. It'll be a week or more before I can even _think_ about getting over there."

"What's his background?" She asked.

"I'd have to spend some time looking to find out all of that."

Phoebe sat back and took another sip from her mug. "How about the others?"

"I'm about to find out." Gerald began typing on the laptop's keyboard, tapped the 'enter button' and waited. "Hmm. David is deceased," He finally said.

"Really?" Phoebe leaned in and he pointed to the status on the screen. Unfortunately, he wasn't joking. "Wow that was just last year." She gazed upon the date.

"Car accident. Mmm…"

"Well, move on to the next then."

Gerald began keying up the next name. When he finished he took a big swig from his cooling hot chocolate. "Madison is still in town." He put his mug back down. "No criminal record though."

"But you can easily go talk to her though. See about the others," Phoebe pointed to the screen.

Gerald nodded and proceeded to key up the database for a fourth and fifth time. "Casey and Seth are still in town as well. And with no criminal records," He concluded with a huff.

Phoebe sighed in disappointment too. She'd hoped this search would have been a little more fruitful than it was. "They certainly are an under-the-radar bunch," She agreed, but none-the less, remained convinced that there _was_ something to be found here.

"Kind of makes you think she's just throwing these people under the bus."

She gave him a slanted look.

"I don't trust her, and I'm not going to anytime soon," He reiterated firmly.

"You really should go talk to her, you know."

"I'm _tired_ of talking to her, Phoebe."

"But you _haven't _talked to her. Not really."

Gerald could only stare at her, completely in disagreement with her assessment. He huffed, but he didn't say anything, so she continued, "All I'm saying is that it took me only a couple of hours to get all of what I did out of her."

"Don't remind me."

"You've been trying to pull teeth without a sedative," With that, Phoebe collected their empty mugs and strolled off into the kitchen. "Just think about it."

There was no need to tell him, he was already thinking about it. Even if he didn't want to.

"I've got a question."

"Yeah?" Gerald replied in a tone of slight annoyance. He was trying to mull some things over and she wanted to keep talking.

Phoebe re-entered the room, "Is there any forensics? Besides the cause of death report?"

The dark skinned man quirked a brow. He wasn't expecting a question like that, "Um…I don't think so. If it's not in the file, it more than likely never existed. Which isn't entirely surprising because there wasn't any ballistics reports either," He explained.

"That's negligent."

"Well, they really dropped the ball on this case."

"I'll say. Reports like that would have been great to have."

"…You know…" He leaned forward and flipped open the worn manila folder. He'd suddenly given himself an idea, "I do know somebody that probably _could_ tell me something about that…" He trailed off as his gaze fell to a bloody photo.

He definitely had his work cut out for him.

* * *

**Tuesday**

"Hey Kyle, have you got a minute?" Gerald rapped his knuckles on the door frame and leaned into the office.

A nerdy black haired guy peeked up from a microscope that he'd ogling through, a curious brow quirked quite high on his head. "Maybe. What do you need?"

Gerald crossed the room to the table that Kyle was seated at and placed a stack of photos down in front of him. "I was wondering if there is any way that you could tell me a little about these."

Kyle glanced down at the pictures, "Well, he's dead. How's that?" He smirked and Gerald rolled his eyes. "What do you want to know then?"

"Um…ballistics. What else do you do?"

Kyle scoffed, "And I want a million dollars and a Victoria's Secret model for a girlfriend. Do you know what you're asking me to do?"

"Yes."

Grabbing the top photo, Kyle held the glossy paper up in the air and squinted at it, "You must be really grasping at straws here, slick."

"Just look at them. Please," Gerald said with another irritated eye roll.

Kyle stacked the photos back into a neat pile, "I'll take a look and see what I find. Don't hold your breath."

* * *

**Thursday**

Gerald still couldn't bring himself to go seek out Helga. Not yet anyway. He was still too much of a liability to do that. That's not to say that he had sat idly and twiddled his thumbs, no sir, he kept on. While his main interest may have been a whole hour away in another town, that didn't mean he couldn't start in the middle with some one of the others. And that's what he did, randomly picking one of the three that lived in town to 'interview,' which happened to be Madison Radke, who, just happened to live two blocks away from him, as unbelievable as that was.

Or maybe it was a sign?

He hoped, as he stood on her porch, jamming her doorbell, that it would at least be a fruitful starting spot for him. When the door finally swung open, it dawned a tall, curly haired brunette in its threshold, holding a glass of red wine between her fingers.

"Are you Madison Radke?" Gerald asked with as friendly of a smile as he could muster.

She nodded, "Can I help you with something?"

"Well, I was hoping that you could help _me_, actually," He pulled out his badge and let her see it, "My name is Gerald Johanssen and I was wondering what you could tell me about Helga Pataki."

To say that Madison Radke looked thoroughly gob smacked would have been a gross understatement. Her brows were threatening to join her hairline from the wideness of her shocked eyes, "Oh… my God…the _fish_?" She finally snorted in total disbelief, "You want to know about _the fish_?"

Gerald frowned, "I'm sorry, the fish?" He'd never before heard Helga referred to as that.

The woman took a sip of wine and sighed, "Well, I'm not about to stand here and freeze, so you better come in," She motioned him into her home. He nodded and walked in past her and she led them into the living room.

"I called her _the fish_ because I've never seen anyone who could drink like her," She explained as Gerald took a seat on the couch and she in a nearby chair. "That was my nickname for her, though not one she liked."

"Ah," Now he understood.

"So what did you want to know about her?" She asked casually.

"What have you got to tell me?" He tried to be as equally casual.

Madison perked a brow and smirked, "She was an interesting character," She took a sip of wine, "We never really got along all _that_ well."

"Why?"

The woman shrugged, "She always rubbed me the wrong way. In hindsight it was probably because I was jealous. She rolled onto the block with her boy toy in tow and became the new C-Town star quickly enough. The guys loved her because she could throw down yager and whiskey as hard as they could and she _always_ made parties exciting."

"So I take it that you haven't seen her since college then?"

"No, not on purpose anyway. I did run into her about…oh, 3 years ago in a liquor store. She looked awful. I guess she still hadn't gotten over…" She trailed off, but cocked her head in realization at him, "This isn't about her, is it? It's about Arnold."

Gerald nodded, "I was getting there."

"I should have figured as much. Why _else_ would you be here," She took another sip, "I don't believe she killed him, if that's what you're wondering. I'd be willing to put money on it."

He gave her a very curious look, "What's your reasoning?"

"She and Arnold had a pretty _intense_ relationship, and I mean good _and_ bad. When they fought, _they fought_, but I never thought that they were _miserable together_ or anything. We've all seen _those _types. No, I think that they really did love each other; you could see it in their eyes. They just had issues."

"So you…witnessed a few of these spats?"

Madison snorted, "_Who didn't?_ And if I didn't hear it, I would know anyway because she would typically come over to our house to cool down. When she didn't do that she would just leave for awhile, though, sometimes she wouldn't come back until morning."

"Do you know _where_ she went?"

She shrugged, "No idea. I always figured she just went home or something."

"So what do _you_ think happened? To Arnold, I mean."

"I honestly can't say. I have a hard time believing that Arnold had any enemies. In the beginning I thought it was a bad break in. When I moved in my sophomore year there were some girls at the far end of the street that had their house B&Ed. Thieves made off with their jewelry and their computers. So, it _had_ happened before, but…then I heard that nothing was taken out of their house," Madison eluded.

Seeing that she intended to tell him no more than that, he quickly moved on, "Did you ever talk to him much?"

At that, her face visibly brightened, "Arnold was a _doll_…and a dish," She chuckled, "Sorry. He was a _really_ sweet person though. Everybody liked him. He didn't really hang around with the C-town group much, which was unfortunate, but he wasn't much of a drinker or a partier."

"So he _did_ hang around with you guys from time to time then?"

"I would say…for the first few months he hung out with us _somewhat_ regularly."

"And then he just stopped?"

"Like I said, he wasn't really into the scene that we were into, that _she_ was into."

"No conflicts with anybody?"

"Not to my knowledge, no."

"Where were you on the night of his death?"

Madison smiled, "Do you know how many years it's been?" She asked, but it was a completely rhetorical question, "I was stoned in my room that night, finding inspiration for a creative writing assignment due the next day."

"What about your roommates, David and Weston?"

"David was in. Weston-_God, that sounds weird_-we called him Pepper…he was _out _if my memory serves me correctly."

* * *

Olga never did get back around to resuming that talk she and Helga had begun in the kitchen on Monday morning. Not that she didn't try, but between her schedule becoming unexpectedly slammed and then her eldest son coming home early from school running a fever and exhibiting flu like symptoms, it quickly deteriorated into a very long and very time consuming week.

By Thursday, in spite of her best attempts to quarantine Brett's flu from the rest of the household, Grant and Scott had contracted it, effectively rendering two-thirds of her brood decrepitly ill. Needless to say, was a sick fest.

Helga didn't let that damper the emotional high that she'd been left with on Monday morning though. She made it a point to find something positive to occupy her time with. She spent a lot of said time wrapped up in her head, thinking about all of the things she'd mentioned, trying to find new angles to think about those things, continuously using Olga's glass-half-full suggestion as a guiding light.

An easy thing to say when you're life had been perfect since from the time you were born. It was a rueful observation that she quickly extinguished, knowing that her spitefulness would get her nowhere quickly. Olga meant well, it wasn't her fault that the cards life had dealt her were better, although, something inside Helga told her that even if Olga had been saddled with the same situations as her, she _still_ wouldn't be in this position now. It was that Pataki tenacity that Bob had always gloated about proudly with a puffed out chest. Olga had turned it into success; Helga had turned it into abhorrent aggression and general abrasiveness.

She realized, quickly enough, that all of those side thoughts were walled distractions. She was growing weary with cluttering up the highways in her brain and it showed with her detouring, however it did give her the idea to do something that she hadn't done in years. She took to paper, putting a ball point pen to use and began comprising a more cohesive collection of those _important_ thoughts, not entirely un-reminiscent of her journal keeping days. It seemed like a good idea, rather than just flying by the seat of her pants and risk flying off the handle and blurting out whatever was irritating her as she did Monday morning.

Ink scratched against parchment, looping, dotting and weaving pages and pages of solutions to the problems accumulated by what could only be described as a dreadfully misspent youth. She devoted a good chunk of that writing to Sender and how far out of line she felt that her comments about her really had been. It certainly wasn't _who_ she was. It wasn't who she wanted to continue to be. She knew that she was probably missing the big picture on a lot of stuff, or maybe even the unnoticed details… but that was what Olga was for. But it was looking more and more like it was going to be a week of solitude for Helga and in a weird sort of way, she was alright with it. Just for that week though.

* * *

**Friday**

"Hey, get your butt into my cave. I've got to show you something."

Gerald looked out from behind his work locker door to see a very bored but demanding look on Kyle's face. "Coming," He closed the metal flap, finished shrugging on his jacket and followed the man.

"So initially I thought you were full of shit, and wasting my time, with these," He gestured to the stack of photos as they arrived to the room, "However, I did manage to find one thing. I don't know how much of use it will be to you though."

Gerald perked, "What?" His eyes hungrily scanned the stack.

Kyle grabbed the top two photographs off of the stack, "Okay, look at the entry and the exit pattern," One picture was of the front, and one of the back of Arnold's neck. That's a degrees of about 40."

Gerald looked at him blankly and Kyle rolled his eyes, "Jesus man. An angle like that means one of two things, either your 'perp' is a midget, or they were sitting or lying on the floor or… a gun slinger shooting from the hip?" He shook his head of the absurd thought. "Point is, the 'perp' didn't just walk up to this guy and shoot him…unless of course, they were a midget."

"Are you sure?" Gerald stared at the photo in perplexity, "It's not bullet ricochet?"

"Hell _no_. Do you see how clean that exit is? _No_ bones."

Gerald patted him on the shoulder and smiled, "Kyle, I owe you one," He said and plucked the pictures out of his hands.

* * *

**Friday Night**

After the sick ones had been fed their chicken noodle soup and grilled cheeses, the healthy seated themselves around the dining table to munch on an artisan pizza. An Olga _'_throw-together_,'_ bejeweled with organic cheese and tomatoes that were surely picked by angels…or something to that effect. It made the taste buds dance that was for sure. Too bad Helga wasn't really in a food mood that night. She wasn't in a particularly moody disposition either, still, she had picked at her meal throughout the entire dinner and hade hardly anything to add to the conversation.

Maybe it was the feel of sickness in the air that was dragging her down, or maybe it was those damn itchy stitches that were giving her hell. If they weren't hurting, stinging, or pinching, they were itching and it was awful.

"I'm done. I'm going to go watch some TV," Daniel announced.

"Put your plate and glass in the dish washer, please."

Helga blinked and watched her nephew walk away into the kitchen, simultaneously deciding to give up on mangling her own slices of pizza, picking at them no further.

"_Please_ don't tell me you're starting to feel under the weather too," Olga surveyed in a worrisome tone, her face displaying the upmost concern over her sibling's mostly uneaten meal.

Helga shook her head, "Nah, I feel fine…just not all that hungry I guess," She laid her napkin down and pushed the plate away.

"Thank goodness," Olga breathed a sigh of relief. Honestly, she didn't think she could handle _another _sick individual in her house. "I'm praying that Dan doesn't get it next either."

"Or you," Helga pointed out.

"I suppose there's that too," She agreed, "Mom told me today that Sender came home early with it."

Helga sighed, "…jeez," Her poor baby.

"Apparently it's going around."

"Apparently."

"Mom," Daniel poked his head back into the dining room.

"Yes, honey?"

"Dad wanted me to come get you. He says that he's dying."

Olga shook her head, un-amused, "Oh, _lord_…" She said and got up from the table. Helga took that as a good enough cue for her to leave as well. She put her plate away, grabbed her jacket, her smokes and headed outside.

It was cold, so cold that one could smell the chill in the air, peppered with burning wood and the fresh snow. She didn't mind it. There was something about it that cleared her mind. Usually she took refuge in the back yard for her nightly smoke, but tonight she chose the front for a change of scenery. The cabin fever had begun to firmly take root. From her seat on the porch step she gazed out over the yard at the neighbor houses, all resembling Thomas kinkade paintings with their snow tipped roofs and golden light pouring through the frosted window glass that framed the cherub faced children peeking out to see fresh snowflakes glide to earth. _Ah, sweet, sweet suburbia._

She blew a puff of smoke and cocked her head to the side, intending to look down the street but her eyes falling instead on her snow covered SUV parked in the guest drive. A magnificent piece of gas guzzling shit, once owned by the Beeper King, with a bazillion freakin' miles and a transmission that was beginning to 'slip.' Whatever _that_ meant. Her friends had dubbed it the 'ho wagon' after she'd downed an entire bottle of yager and chipped off the 'ta' and 'e' leaving just the 'ho' with a hubcap/lug nut tool that she'd found with the spare tire about 2 years ago. Or so she'd _heard_. What a glorious blackout that had been.

It stuck out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood of Volvos and BMWs, not entirely unlike herself and she imagined that it didn't go unnoticed either. She envisioned a scenario that began with hearsay chatter, percolating through neighborhood gatherings concerning who the _ruffian_ at the Harlow residence was, before an older woman on the block, the nosiest for sure, would pipe up with, "_Well, I don't want to gossip, but I heard that it's her younger sister, back again,"_ Looks of dismay would besmear each of their faces at the news of this suburban scandal.

Eh, probably not. But it still made her laugh a little, something she didn't do enough of anymore. She wasn't making fun of Olga's life, by any stretch of the meaning. In fact, she loved it! It's why she wanted to come back here to recuperate so badly. And on days where she felt like giving herself a good mental lashing, she allowed it to wander and dwell upon the idea that she _might_ be in a similar spot, had things had turned out differently. Had Arnold _lived_. She was a realist; she knew that it would have been rough, especially with the whole _Lila _ordeal…or _whatever_, but she imagined them sorting out their problems—er…_her_ _problems_, moving on and raising their daughter.

Maybe they'd be married by now; maybe they'd be buying a house in a nearby area within this slice of suburbia, living quite happily with her alcoholism only an ugly and distant blemish on an otherwise good life. He'd probably be working his way up the corporate finance ladder and perhaps she would be starting her grad program. They'd be having light hearted arguments right now over what color to paint their kitchen and whether to buy Sender a puppy or a hedge hog for Christmas. He would say, _"Why not a hedge hog? I had a pig."_

Ultimately, they'd end up with a hedge hog _and _a puppy…and probably a smorgasbord of other animals if she had to guess. In a few years they'd bang out a couple more Shortman brats with unique first names and round out their statistically average nuclear family. Average and happy.

_Happy…_Her mind repeated, _That's interesting…that's a very interesting thought Pata—_

"Mind if I sit down?"

Helga whipped around to see Olga, bundled in a thick jacket, standing behind her. She shook her head and patted the space beside her. "Are you a widow now?" She teased as her sister took a seat.

"Oh, he is nothing short of dramatic," Olga laughed. "You look like you were in deep thought out here; I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

Helga shrugged and took a drag, "I was just having an epiphany staring at your neighbor's house."

Olga's eyes wandered across the street and she smiled, "The McNamara home does have remarkable architecture," She winked, "What's in that head of yours?"

"The concept of happiness."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Well, I just went on a mental adventure thinking about what life could…might be like right now."

"If Arnold were alive, right?"

"Of course," Helga nodded, "But…then it just sort of hit me, right before you came out that, yeah, sure, a large part of me has..._is_ still angry about his death, but there's this other part too that…still thinks this is all a bad nightmare. That I'm going to wake up or…that he's just going to come skipping through the door and tell me that this has all just been a really awful joke," She reached over and extinguished her cigarette nub in the snow and tossed it down beside her. "I don't know, I guess what I'm trying to say is…I don't think it's ever occurred to me that I probably _can_ be happy again…solely because I've never accepted that it just isn't going to be with him." She flicked her lighter and lit another cigarette.

"I think that's an incredibly insightful observation."

"Yeah?" Helga said with a sideways glance.

Olga nodded, "I think that it could be something that is more impacting on your life than you think. This part of you that has never accepted that he _is_ dead, probably single handedly provokes the rest of you that _knows_ he's dead."

"I think so," Helga agreed, "I'm not quite sure yet, how to approach it. I mean, I don't exactly think that finding somebody else to _'fill-the-void'_ so to speak, is the cure."

"It's not. You've got to learn to be happy with yourself, before you can even _think_ about trying to be happy with somebody else. And you aren't."

Helga exhaled, "But see, I don't even really know what that _means_. Besides being able to say, 'oh, I can talk about it now, and oh, I don't feel guilty anymore, and…I don't miss him anymore, and I accept that bad shit happens and there's nothing I can do about it'"

"That's part of it. But, it's like I was trying to explain the other morning: you've got to find the silver lining in all of this mess and run with it. I think that you've forgotten that _you_ have a life _too. _It didn't magically stop with his. _You _have got to re-find your _own _aspirations, your _own_ goals and your _own_ dreams. Not the ones that you forged _with _him, but the ones that you _created_ for _yourself._ That's what happiness is _partially_ about. Finding something you like doing, something you love, going for it and being the best you can be."

"I know," Her shoulders drooped, "I've been in life hibernation for…too long. I've got my work cut out for me."

Olga smiled, "Oh, don't dwell too much; it's not an overnight process. They'll come to you in time," She reassured with that warm, motherly understanding in her face that she had long since perfected.

Helga tilted her face toward her, "Glass half full, right?" She said with a small smile.

"Glass half full," Her sister agreed, "Have you been okay this week? I haven't seen much of you."

She nodded, "Yeah, it's been all right. My stitches itch like _crazy._"

"They come out next week."

"And not a day too soon either," Helga grumbled, "I've been writing a lot these last few days," She confessed, "It has actually been pretty relaxing and…surprisingly helpful. I haven't done it in years."

"You always did like to write as a child," Olga commented, "Anything in particular?"

"Just stuff like we've been talking about. I'll let you read it, whenever all this sick stuff blows over."

The glass door clicked open and both women turned around. "Mom, Grandpa is on the phone," Daniel hung his body out of the crack with the cordless in hand.

Olga held her hand out and Daniel tip-toed over to deliver the device before booking it back into the warmth in a flash, "Hey, daddy how are you" They're feeling a little better today, but…yeah, mom told me. Mmmhmm…they sent you the bill already? That was quick…_oh..._okay…"

Helga perked a brow and sucked down the last of her cancer stick.

"…Well, that's how it is. It was the same way when Brett had his appendix removed last year-oh, just give it to me and I'll pay it, it's not worth making a fuss over," Olga sighed, "I'm _not_ babying her…"

"I'm going in," Helga said quietly. Olga nodded and got up with her.

"I guess we're going to have to agree to disagree then…" She shut and bolted the wooden door behind them. "How's everything else been otherwise? Oh, really? I haven't talked to them in _ages_…"

Helga waved goodnight and Olga pulled her into a one armed hug, "'Night," She whispered and walked off into the kitchen, continuing her conversation with their dad.

Helga went off to her room, flung herself down on her bed and flipped on the TV. Mostly for noise, since she rarely ever watched anything. She grabbed her phone off of the bedside table and flipped it open, discovering she had a text from Sid.

"_I'm bored. My GF bailed on me tonight. Come through my window," _It said, sent 15 minutes ago.

She hated that it caused a twinkle of a smile to upturn the corner of her mouth.

_Don't acknowledge him…_The little voice in her head tried to convince.

Apparently her thumb had other plans though. It pressed the green send button, forcing the device to dial his number.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm sorry that this chapter is _super_ long. But dang am I glad to be through with it. I must have re-wrote it ten times. I _tried_ not to let it get bogged down, but I'm sure it does in areas, and I'm sorry for that. I've been feeling overly wordy and obsessed with realism as of lately. I figured I would start this one off a little differently and go with an Arnold scene from the past. I know a lot of you have asked for them so: Tada! I've got at least…three more of them planned to sprinkle into the last chapters. Coming up: Gerald, Phoebe, Pepper, Casey and…Sid? Hmm…Thanks for your eyeballs. Read, review, send me messages…whatever else. It keeps the engine motivated.


	19. Hi Fi Killer

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold, the Batman character 'Bruce Wayne' or the alcoholic beverage Jagermeister.

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

**Housekeeping: **There is quite a bit of language in this chapter. Sorry about it, it just kind of came out that way. You've been warned.

* * *

**Hi-Fi Killer**

"She wants to move,

But you're hogging her,

You're guarding her,

Mister, look at your girl,

She loves it,

I can see it in her eyes,

She hopes this lasts forever." -N.E.R.D (She Wants To Move)

* * *

**Friday**

God, she felt like an idiot. But she just couldn't help herself, just couldn't say no. Of course, she supposed, she wasn't _technically_ harming anything, or anybody. It was only a phone call.

_Try phone calls. Plural. Don't act like you're innocent._

Helga's dirty little secret for the week? She still hadn't cut Sid loose. Hadn't even come _close_, even though, she'd had _plenty _of opportunity to do so. _Plenty_. God knows she had _nothing but_ time these days. _Really_, just _loads _of it. And, he was a promise keeper, that one, he'd called her back on Monday night, and from there, she had been chatting away with him quite frequently over the last four days.

They never talked about anything important, her 'mysterious' absence was never mentioned nor brought up. Which, now that she thought about it, really surprised her. She figured, at the very least, Aubrey had by now, ridden like Paul Revere through their gang of associates, spreading the word of her evolution, and surely such chatter would have spread to Sid. But he seemed entirely unaware of anything, which told her that Aubrey probably didn't believe her, more than likely seeing it as an idle declaration similar to the type made while being _extremely_ hung over and vehemently swearing to _never_ drink again. Of course, she'd _always_ drank again, and that was probably what Aubrey assumed, that Helga would be back to her old self soon enough.

The girl was in for a rude awakening. Helga may have been lighting up the phone towers, pinging calls back and forth to Sid, but that didn't mean she had intentions of falling back into her old ways. Not this time. She was mostly just _bored_. Mind numbingly _bored._

And with Sid, she really couldn't _deny_ the connection that they had. Not a romantic one (and she would sock anybody in the face for suggesting it) but one that was a: 'hey-we've-known-each-other-since-we-were-nine' type. Or at least that's the way _she _saw it. Whatever it was, she wasn't a very good participant in it, constantly taking way more from him than she ever gave back and, worst, not ever really feeling badly about it. He was a cheap drug hook-up, an ear to abuse with complaints and rants and whose bed she found herself in _far more_ than she cared to admit. Though, it's not like she'd ever heard an outraged objection from him.

She would miss him that was for sure.

* * *

"Oh, hey! Glad I caught you," Kyle jogged to Gerald's side as he pushed through the doors and walked out of the precinct.

Gerald threw a toboggan over his head, "What's up?" He asked as he dug out his car keys from his jacket pocket.

"I forgot to give you this when I saw you earlier," Kyle handed him a folded piece of paper. Gerald opened it and read it, "Just some other generalities about the photos. Nothing mind blowing like the 40 degree angle."

"Thanks man."

"Just being thorough," Kyle smiled, "I'll see you later!"

"All right, take it easy."

* * *

"I'm sorry I'm late. I have been up to my eyeballs in back-logged paper work today," Gerald announced as he lumbered into his apartment and shut the door behind him. Phoebe looked up from the TV, "I picked up a couple New York strips," He held the brown paper package he was carrying up.

Phoebe smiled, "Well, let's get them going then. I'm starved," She stood up and followed him into the kitchen.

They both washed up and Gerald began prepping the steaks with their favorite seasonings while the stove top griddle heated up. Phoebe busied herself with putting together a salad.

"Did you have a good day?" He asked.

"Sure. Long Friday, but otherwise good. You?"

Gerald forked the steaks onto the griddle, "Not bad. Kyle finally got back to me," He said over the searing sound, waving away the steamy smoke as he did.

"Anything interesting there?"

"There was one thing. I'm not really sure what to think about it, but he said that, judging by the angle of the bullet entry and exit, whoever shot him was _probably_ sitting or lying on the floor."

Phoebe frowned, "Do what?"

Gerald held his hands up and shrugged, "I know. I don't know what to make of it either."

"It could mean that whoever it was _wasn't_ familiar with the house."

"You're hinting at an accidental shooting."

She shrugged, "Why else would they be on the floor?"

"Or maybe Helga was stumbling around drunk." Gerald crossed his arms smugly.

"But she wouldn't have been."

"Well then, who on that list of suspects wouldn't have been familiar with it? They're all acquaintances. I doubt they were strangers to that house," He argued.

"We have plenty of acquaintances and good friends, and I doubt any one of them could maneuver around here blind folded."

He sighed, letting it be known that his patience was wearing razor thin. "What in the world does being blind folded have to do with anything Phoebe?"

"In that situation I imagine that their adrenalin was pumping at critical levels. It's the _proverbial_ blind fold. That's when mistakes are made."

At that he dejectedly turned around and flipped the sizzling stakes. The conversation was done as far as he was concerned.

* * *

**Saturday**

He'd driven for an hour and a half that morning, guzzling down a giant steaming cup of coffee to chase away the snowy chill that had gripped the state, and, if it were possible to be any more of a stereotypical police officer, accompanied the cozy beverage with a bear claw doughnut for dipping.

Where he ended up could only be described as a small mountain like town, huddled together under a blanket of chimney smoke and seasonal north western fog. Not _at all_ what he'd been expecting. It only had two stop lights and most of the shops lining the streets were of the mom and pop variety. The whole trip seemed like a waste of time, but he had to keep reminding himself that no rock shall go unturned.

_**Hayes' Arms and Archery **_he saw, written in big bold letters across a particular store front that he drove by.

Well, he was positive that he _was_ in the right town at least.

He parked and hurried in, immediately greeted by a pretty young blonde woman sitting behind a long, glass counter full of assorted hand guns, reading a magazine, "Can I help you find anything?" She offered.

"Um…I was sort of looking for the owner. Is he in?"

"No. My husband is out of town at the moment. Was he expecting you?"

Gerald shook his head while fishing out his police badge from his jacket pocket. "No ma'am. I just needed to ask him a few questions."

She frowned down at the shiny silver crest in his palm, "Is he in some kind of trouble?"

"No," He smiled, "This is just concerning a neighbor that he had some time ago. Preliminary."

"Oh, well…he's in Vancouver right now. I'm not sure how long he's going to be there, but I'm sure he'd be happy to give you a call if—"

"-Of course!" Gerald whipped out a pen and scribbled down his number onto his business card.

"Great. Mr…" She squinted at the rectangular scrap, "…Johanssen. I'll let him know."

"Thank you."

A waste of time. Just like he'd thought.

* * *

Helga was beyond frustrated. Almost beside herself in fact. It was the second time that day that she'd tried calling her parents, only to have it ring five times and then click over to their answering machine. What made her _so_ angry was the fact that she _knew_ that they were home! Olga had talked to them earlier that day. Helga had even called them 10 minutes after Olga had ended her call! _Nothing!_ Nada! Considering how this second attempt was panning out, she had no other choice but to believe that they were just avoiding the phone the minute they saw her name on the caller ID.

If Olga hadn't been on the house phone, babbling away about flu remedies and autumn pie recipes with her mother-in-law, she would have ditched her cell phone and played her parents at their own game. Instead she let it click over to the answering machine and proceeded to vent her irritation that way.

"Look I get that you two probably don't want to talk to me and that's _fine_, that's _A-okay_ with me, _but_, you kind of have my kid, and I kind of want to talk to her. Or-I know she's sick right now, id like an update at the very least, so can we be reasonable here? Can we act like adults?" She paused, waiting for them to pick up, but _once again_, having _no_ such luck, "_Really?_ I mean, really? This is screwed up-" She growled in frustration and hung up.

* * *

Saturday night. Gerald was watching football and Phoebe was having none of it. She had a hot date with a new book that she'd been attempting to read for months now. A pithy crime drama that seemed like an _entirely _appropriate read at the moment. A task that she intended to get busy with as soon as she finished loading the last batch of dirty clothes into the washing machine.

She dug through each pocket of Gerald's jeans and work pants, making absolutely sure he hadn't left anything of importance in them, not wanting a repeat of the time that his wallet had been washed, or the vast array of other things that had, on occasion, ended up clunking around the barrel.

_Men. _

On the last pair that she pulled from the hamper, she fished out a folded piece of notebook paper. On the inside was scribbled:

'_Entry wound suggests an average bullet grain. 115-124.  
95% - right handed.' _

Ah. Work stuff. She closed the washer lid and walked into the living room, "You left this in your pocket," She handed him the slip.

He opened it, "You can throw it away. It's nothing."

"What's if for?"

"Just some stuff that Kyle wrote down the other day."

"About Arnold's shooter?"

"Yeah."

Phoebe frowned, "What does it mean by '95 percent right handed'?"

"He's fairly certain that the shooter was right handed."

At that, she merely blinked, allowing that bit of information to turn in her head for a little while. "Right handed?" She asked one more time.

"Yeah. So what? Most of the population is right handed. What's the big deal?"

By that point, she could hardly keep a smile off of her face, "Helga's left handed."

"What?" He asked, hurriedly muting the game. She knew immediately that she had his full attention.

"She's left handed."

"How do you know that?"

Phoebe rolled her eyes, "How would I _not_ know that? She _was_ my childhood best friend."

"And Arnold was _my_ best friend but I sure as hell can't remember…"

But his raven haired companion had tuned him out as she plopped down onto the coffee table, shaking her head while letting that gleeful smile that was tugging the corners of her mouth upward have its way. She had been _right_. Her hunch about Helga had been _right_. To think though, that it would come from something as subtle as which side of her brain controlled everything.

"-Gerald, this means she was telling the truth, you know," She finally said, interrupting whatever he'd been going on about.

* * *

_Twisting and turning, front, back and to the side. That's what Helga Pataki was doing, while standing in front of the full length mirror that hung on the inside of her closet door, making absolutely sure that the strapless pink dress that she wore looked completely acceptable from all angles. She'd never be completely satisfied, but she was complacent enough so she moved on to fussing with her hair. _

_The product she'd put in seemed to be working out nicely, giving her that loose beach wave look, but that wasn't her problem, her dilemma now was whether or not she wanted to leave it alone, or pin a few loose curls back from around her face. She heard the shower cut off and her equally blonde counterpart came wandering into the bedroom, naked as the day he was born and dripping water everywhere but towel drying his hair none the less. A practice that she would never understand, but felt the need to continuously scrutinize anyway. _

_Men._

"_Why can't you dry off before you get out of the shower?" She whined._

_He ran the large fluffy white cloth over his head a few more times before tossing it onto the bed and giving her one of those smug little Arnold smiles that he was so famous for, "'Cause I like air drying better." _

_With a huff, she rolled her eyes, "And I like dry carpet, sheesh. Anyway, how do I look?" She posed with a hand on her hip. _

"_Gorgeous. Is that a new dress?" _

"_Nah, just a back of the closet gem that I've never worn," She looked down at the garment. "Does my hair look okay? I tried something new."_

"_Looks beautiful," He walked to his dresser and yanked open a drawer to find a pair of boxers. _

_Helga just stared at his back, "That's it?" She asked in disappointment, "I never get dressed up and you have nothing else to say?" _

_Arnold tossed her an amused look over his shoulder while sliding on his selected pair of boxers. "I don't know what else to tell you. You could wear a trash bag and have a fro and I would still think you were the most gorgeous and beautiful thing ever," He turned around, "But, apparently you're fishing for my inner brut, in which case: baby, bring that fine ass over here so I can bend you over this dresser 'cause you're looking damn fuckable. I'm telling all my boy-eez about this later!" _

_With that she huffed into the bathroom, but not before giving him the finger and blowing him a kiss with it. _

_Laughing he said, "That was good right? I sounded just like those frat guys," Before continuing to get dressed, pulling on a pair of jeans and then grabbing a nice blue collared shirt from the closet and his baseball cap off the night stand lamp, finally giving himself a once over in the mirror when he'd completed the ensemble. _

_A hand suddenly materialized, pulling the hat off of his head, and he turned to see that she had returned from the bathroom, dawning newly pinned hair and a dash of makeup. With a smirk she reached back up and ruffled his tresses, "You have annoyingly great hair. I wish you wouldn't hide it with your hat all of the time."_

"_But I'm lost without it."_

"_Yeah, yeah," She crookedly stuck the blue garment back onto his head and tried to walk away but he pulled her to him. _

"_Hey, you know that I was just joking with you earlier, right?" He looked down into her eyes, "But I really do think you look amazingly-beautifully-gorgeous, no matter what, but especially right now."_

_Helga couldn't help but smile, "I know you were and, thank you."_

"_I like how you pulled these pieces back," He noted the bobby pins with his finger._

"_Me too." _

"_How do I look?"_

"_Fuckable." _

"_That's not very lady-like."_

"_I'm no lady," She winked, "Now let's roll hair boy." _

* * *

"_Is this it?" Arnold peered out the car window at the abandoned warehouse across the street. _

"_Has to be. There's a ton of cars parked around-look," She pointed, "There's some people coming out now." _

_He pulled the car on down the street and weaseled it into a spot amongst the other crookedly parked vehicles around before they pair of them skipped off to the entrance of the aforementioned warehouse. _

"'_Sup folks. You go your slip?" A fashionably dressed hipster guy perched just inside the door way stopped him. He didn't look big enough to be a bouncer but it was obvious that that was what he was. _

_Arnold stared at him, "Our what?" _

"_The invite," Helga clarified and he immediately dug out the colorful piece of paper from his pocket._

"_Sorry about that," He handed it over to the guy, who clicked a flash light on to inspect it. All the while they could vaguely hear the thumping of bass and feel the subwoofers beat beneath their feet. _

"_Third door to your left," He finally said and handed the paper back to Arnold, "Take the stairs all the way down." He motioned them in. _

_They did as they were told and went where he directed them, and were hit full blast with the beat of the music as they stepped into the neon infused strobe lights that colorfully illuminated the basement and the hundreds of people that moved around it. _

"_Where are they?!" Arnold turned to Helga, who already had her face buried in her phone, reading a text. _

"_In between the DJ and the bar," She looked across the sea of bodies and spotted the disk jockey's platform, "Come on!" Grabbing his hand they weaved like needles through the fabric of people all the way to the very back._

"_Who knows the DJ again?!" Arnold asked._

"_It's Casey's older brother!"_

"_Hey guys!" Pepper smiled and everybody in the group turned to acknowledge the pair. _

_Arnold shook his hand, "How's it going?" _

"_Pretty good. Could your friends not make it?"_

_Helga shook her head, "They went skiing this weekend," She told him, referring to Phoebe and Gerald. _

"_Ah! Well, you guys know the gang," He motioned towards everybody, "But I don't think you've met Zack, Cameron and Aubrey and Si-no you already know those two!" He laughed, motioning to Sid and Wolfgang. _

"_Hi!" Helga and Arnold nodded before he stepped around the table and gave both former class mates a handshake as well. _

"_Hey!" Pepper waved to the bartender, "Get these kids a drink!" He pointed two fingers at them. _

_Less than a moment later, he shoved two beers in their hands and continued his socializing. _

"_What to dance Arnold?" She smiled up at him._

"_You can dance to this?" He teased. _

_She didn't say anything else, just started to sway her body up against his and he went with it. _

* * *

"_Ready?" David held a small shot glass full of black liquid over a beer glass half full of red bull. Helga, Pepper, David, Casey, Seth, Cameron, Zack and Sid all nodded. "Go!"_

_They all dropped their shots into the glass and immediately began chugging. _

_Helga slammed the glass down on the table first and flung her arms in the air triumphantly, doing a happy dance in celebration. The guys finished seconds later and proceeded to high five her. _

"_Yeah! Now that's how you do a yager bomb!" Casey exclaimed over to Madison, Aubrey and a few other girls that they were standing with as he pointed to Helga. _

_She swayed back over to Arnold, who stood loosely clutching a bottle of domestic beer in his hand. _

"_God that stuff is delicious!"_

_Arnold turned up his nose, "Tasted like black liquorish to me." _

"_I know! It's great!-hey, I've got to go to the restroom. Come with me?"_

_He nodded and they made their way over to women's rest area, which had a wait, but had multiple stalls, thank goodness. When Helga emerged from her stall she saw Aubrey and another girl, whose name she couldn't remember, standing at the vanity. While the unnamed girl redid her makeup up Aubrey dug out what Helga thought was a sharpie from the bag on her shoulder. _

"_Hey guys," Helga walked up between them._

"_Hey," Aubrey replied, popping the top from the sharpie, "Helga right?"_

_She nodded, fixing her hair before washing her hands, "Yeah," _

_Helga watched curiously as the girl unscrewed the business end, reveling that it was no sharpie at all, and dumped a small bit of white powder between the base of her thumb and the knuckle of her index, quickly snorting it up. _

"_What the…" _

_Aubrey laughed, "Pretty clever huh? Want a bump?"_

_Helga shook her head and Aubrey shrugged, putting the sharpie away._

"_What's it like?" Helga asked._

"_Like your brains sizzling and your hearts going to explode. A total shot of adrenalin."_

"_Oh."_

"_It's great for studying."_

"_Really?"_

_Aubrey nodded, "Totally. If you ever want some, I'll hook you up with my guy."_

"_Uh, thanks," _

_Arnold was leaning against the wall when she exited the bathroom, waiting like a dutiful hound for her return before they threaded back to the designated group area. A round of yager shots was shoved into her hand, and then another shortly thereafter. Subtract the Red Bull from her yager bomb earlier and that was her 6__th__ shot of Jagermeister that night, and accompanied with the other alcohols that she'd ingested, she was really feeling light headed, her buzz quickly tumbling into drunk._

_Creeper alcohol. Lovely. _

"_You're going to have a major hang over in the morning if you don't stop," He said as she grabbed hold of him. _

"_I…I think it's worth it huh-Hello!"_

_The warehouse had gone black, except for the black lights over the DJ, in the bars and the various neon wrist bands and glow sticks that people were wearing. Before they had a chance to question what was going on the DJ threw on a tense beat that thumped and then began winding up, building towards something awesome. The crowd around them went berserk. _

_It must have been a good tune coming. A few more intense moments and the lights flickered back on but pulsed to the music as the song finally fell over its lengthy build up and into a very infection melody. And it even had words. Something about wanting to feel like you're on fire, and Helga absolutely loved it. _

_Everybody around collectively fist pumped like Jersey short guidos and jumped around and she joined in the fun too. She was having a blast. "Want to get on the table and dance?" She suddenly asked Arnold, not really sure where the idea to do such a thing came from. But it seemed like a good idea in her intoxicated mind. _

_Unfortunately, he gave her a funny look, "I don't think so," He laughed it off. But Helga was undeterred from her idea and she plucked his beer from his hand, downing the entire thing before he could protest. _

"_I'm doing it!" She handed him back the empty bottle and scurried away to the table where everybody was gathered._

"_No you don't!" _

"_Out of my way bucko!" She shoved Seth aside, and stepped into the chair. _

"_Yo, my friend, where do you think you're-oh, snap, now that's what I'm talking about!" _

_Helga had gotten onto the table and was swaying and moving to the beat and it didn't go unnoticed either. _

_On the other side, Madison stared her down with the look of pure audacity while Aubrey only smirked and elbowed the curly haired brunette next to her, "Girl knows how to party," She snickered and downed her cocktail, handing the glass to Madison and then joining Helga on the table along with two other girls. _

"_Helga, get down!" Arnold begged._

"_Dude, just let her be. It's freakin' awesome," Casey slung his arm over Arnold's shoulder and peered up at the girls. "Chicks on tables are fucking sexy!" _

_It felt like eternity that she was up there, but when the song finally came to an end, he pulled her down. Somebody shoved another shot of something in her hand and she downed it before he could protest. _

"_I think it's time that we get out of here," He said into her ear. _

_She pulled back and gave him half-lidded smile, "Really? But I'm having so much fun!"_

"_I know but, you're hammered and it's 1:45 in the morning."_

_She nodded in defeat. _

"_Hey guys, I think we're heading out!" Arnold announced._

"_Ah, man. You sure? Well, drive safe!" Pepper replied. _

"_You sure you guys don't want to stick around?" Aubrey asked, "We're breaking out some love drug if you're interested," And she knocked a small round tablet back with a drink. _

_Arnold shook his head, "No thanks. You guys take care!"_

_And they left. _

* * *

**Sunday**

"This really isn't how I wanted to spend my Sunday," Gerald griped and rang the doorbell of the Harlow residence. Phoebe ignored him, knowing that he was just trying to be hard to get along with. It came in spells anymore.

The door opened and Olga gave them a puzzled look, "Can I help you?"

"Can I talk to Helga?" Gerald flatly asked.

"No," Olga made to shut the door but Gerald caught it with his hand.

"I'm a police officer, I need to speak with her."

The blonde headed woman frowned with newly darkened eyes, "Well, in _that_ case, you'll hear from my lawyer."

"Wait!" Phoebe tried just before she could shut the door again, "Tell her Phoebe is here. She'll know what that means. Please?"

"Give me a minute," She finally sighed and walked away. In the meantime, Gerald looked around and suggested that they take a seat on the benches that were on the porch.

"Hey," Helga finally shuffled out the door, pulling a jacket on as she did, "So what can I do you for?" She asked boredly and lit up a cigarette.

Gerald threw her an aggravated look, "You _ought_ to be relieved that I'm even here."

"Well, sorry that I'm not _overly_ spirited about your _surprise_ visit. I just woke up and its cold as _shit_ out here."

"Too bad. Get comfortable, you've got a lot of talking to do," Was all he had to say. She glanced at his raven haired companion who nodded.

Seeing that, she gave in, blowing a puff a smoke from her lungs and slinking down to sit on the porch floor Indian style, "Fire away," She held her hands out and bowed her head.

"Before we do anything," He dug into his jacket and retrieved a notepad and a pen, "I want you to write your full name, this address, and the full names of _all_ your relatives down," He threw her the items.

"For _what_ might I ask?"

"You don't get to ask question, I do. Now just _do it_."

She cast him an annoyed look before snatching up the pen.

"Can you even _write_ with that splint on?"

She looked at him like he was a complete idiot, twirling the pen around in her left hand a few times before forcefully clicking the top to engage the ball point, and curling her hand around the notepad in a way that looked like it would've been _terribly_ uncomfortable before scribbling away.

"No, I suppose that I _wouldn't_ be able to write…if I used that hand…"

She was _hook handed_.

He'd seen two suspects before try to fake being left handed. Both, coincidentally enough, were trying to hide incriminating hand writing and it was painfully obvious and unrealistically sloppy for someone who was _supposedly_ right brain oriented.

He could tell, at the ease in which she jotted away that she _wasn't_ faking it.

Phoebe had been on the mark. Helga Pataki _was_ left handed.

"…But luckily for _me_, I'm part of the minority in the general population. Here," She threw the pad back to him, "Happy?"

He glanced down at her writing, not that he needed to, but still, noting how neat it was and how she intermingled cursive into her print to save time.

There was no question about it.

With slumped shoulders he let out a defeated sigh, "Okay, maybe she didn't do it."

"I'm sorry, what?" Helga looked completely bewildered. Especially since Phoebe looked like she was about to burst with joy beside him.

Gerald ground his teeth, "The shooter…was apparently right handed."

"Right handed?" Helga's jaw fell slack, "They can know that?"

He nodded.

"And that's what this was all about?" When he nodded again she leaned back against the porch rail, "Wow…" She sat there for a moment, absorbing it all in. "So, you harassed the shit out of me, _only_ to tell me it was something as _simple_ as which freakin' hand I use?" She incredulously said only to have him nod again.

"Why didn't you _just_ test me? Why the hell did you drag me through all of those…whatever the fuck-_meetings_!-then?!"

"Because I didn't know about this until—"

"-You didn't know?! Well, how about find out before you just jump to conclusions next time!" She hadn't even realized that she'd climbed to her feet and was threatening to tower over him with eyes ablaze, "God _damn_…" She fisted a hand through her hair, "Is…Is there anything _else_ that I should know?"

It was Phoebe that cleared her throat and gave both Gerald and Helga an apologetic look, "Lila was never involved."

Helga felt like she'd been hit by a wrecking ball. Had the wind knocked out of her. Just absolutely blindsided with that one. She stood like that for a few seconds, unable to speak before she finally regained the use of her tongue, "Wow…just…_wow._ Demand that _I_ be truthful, but then _you_ lie to me. Awesome," She made for the door.

Gerald reached out, "Wait a second—"

"-Fuck off. I'm done with this _whole_ thing. Really. Do you have _any_ idea what I've gone through over the last 10 days?" She was furious with him. Absolutely beside herself.

"Helga I know that you were telling the truth," Phoebe stood up, "Everything you told me was true. The drawers, the people that lived around you."

Helga turned on her, "It still doesn't change the fact that he _lied_ to me. I mean, do you have _any idea_ what I've gone through over the last 10 days?"

"That's why you did what you did…" Phoebe realized softly.

"I did something _very stupid_ because I didn't want to go through life thinking that I was _capable_ of…but now, to find out that it was all based in lies…I can't even _express_ how angry I am right now."

At that Gerald stood up, "Look, I'm a bad freakin' cop okay! I thought…I thought that if _you_ thought he was cheating on you with Lila then you'd get mad enough to just spit out a confession."

"What the hell do you think?! That I just woke up one day and said, 'I'm sick of Arnold' and popped him? Christ, Gerald I'm a lot of things but-"

"-I thought that he was probably leaving you anyway and that you just couldn't stand to be walked away from!"

Helga could only blink at his audacity, "And why would you think that? Because of something a neighbor supposedly told you? Or was that a lie too?"

"That was true."

"I don't know _what_ to believe out of you, and I'm done with it. If you want to pursue it then talk to my lawyer," She turned to yank open the door.

"I want to know…maybe you don't but I _do_. You can either help me or you can pout about my errors."

"Excuse me?" She again turned on him with deadly orbs.

"You heard me."

She snorted, "You actually have the audacity to—"

"-take the olive branch Helga. Please. It's a big step for him," Phoebe begged, "Trust me, I've wanted to strangle him too."

She didn't want to, she really didn't. She wanted nothing more than to give him the finger, call him a few choice words and be done with the whole situation. It had caused her more trouble than she ever thought repairable. But some inner force nudged her soul, keeping her from doing all of the things that her temper desired, relaying to her in all knowing knowledge that she would always be miserable if she didn't attempt to seek some closure. Because of that, and that alone, she finally crossed her arms, and with a huff told him, "Fine," With rolling eyes that she couldn't stifle.

The bitter cold air was awkwardly thick, neither parties really knowing what to say next.

Gerald finally cleared his throat and asked, "Can we talk now?"

"About what?" She replied cautiously. Taking the truce didn't mean she wanted anymore of _his_ conversations. They sucked. Why couldn't Phoebe ask the questions? She was far better at it.

All he could offer her was a shrug, "I've got an itching to know about this little girl you've been hiding from us."

_Here we go._

Yes, _deviously _hiding. That's what she was doing. _Of course_ he would think that. "Is everything a conspiracy to you?" She gripped, resuming leaning against the porch rail when they reseated themselves.

He didn't find it funny, though she wasn't trying to make him laugh either. "I just want to know."

"I'm really not _that_ conniving you know, but _yes_, I have a 6 year old. Her name is Sender."

"Sender? Like a fire—"

"-Heck if I know," She said with a newly dispatched cancer stick bobbing between her lips, "Arnold came up with the name," She flicked the lighter aflame; "He always said he wanted three kids. A boy named Phillip and two girls named Sender and Atlas. Preferably in that order. He thought unusual girl names were cute."

"Is _that_ why you two were fighting so much?"

"No," She sighed shook her head, "We were fighting like _crazy_ because of my drinking. In fact that's probably what the old lady heard that night. Anyway, it was about 2 weeks or so after his death that I found out that I was nearly 3 months pregnant with her."

"How in the _hell_ did you miss_ that_?" Gerald incredulously asked.

She shrugged and looked off, "Stress, copious amounts of alcohol, cocaine usage, maybe a dash of denial and, looking back, morning sickness that must have blended _seamlessly_ into my hangovers."

He snorted, "A _dash_ of denial? I'd say that's a _liberal_ amount of denial."

"You would have done the same. I didn't want to face a reality of: 'Jesus, Arnold, we screwed ourselves _big time_.' I just ignored it, figuring it couldn't _possibly_ be true. Our relationship was already deteriorating. We had _enough_ problems as it was."

"And that's _why_ you fell off the face of the earth," Phoebe interjected, looking at Gerald. Helga nodded.

"Yeah, where _did_ you disappear to?" Gerald asked.

"Disappear? _Hardly_. I was here," Helga gestured to the house, "Bob pawned me off on Olga because he didn't want to deal with me. A few months later, I had a baby and…I wasn't _about_ to venture too far away from Olga. So, I ended up staying here for…probably about…a year and a half or so. When I felt like being on my own again, I talked Bob into letting me move into one of the apartments in the building on 5th street that he owns, and that's where I've been up until…well, now."

Gerald crossed his arms, a mild amount of disbelief coming across his face, "You can't pick up the phone and call?"

"I didn't want to talk to anybody. Not Phoebe, not any of my other friends and especially not _you._ It was a terrible time and I just wanted to be left alone. I didn't want any _more _reminders-Are we _done _discussing my personal life? Aren't there more pressing matters?" She complained, making her irritation as obvious as possible.

"This isn't a pressing matter? You've been running around with my niece, acting the way you have? I _ought_ to kick your skinny ass for it."

"Funny. 15 minutes ago you were hoping to throw me in the clink for _good_. Thank _God_, a _much better_ method of child rearing than previous," She sneered sarcastically, "Really looking out for the children there Bruce Wayne."

"Cool your jets, Pataki. That was out of my control," He huffed.

"Oh, really? Because I seem to reca—"

"-Okay, enough. Let's move on," Phoebe broke up their banter before it could escalate further.

"_Thank you,_" The blonde agreed, "So, if you aren't after the likes of me, who are you after now?" She directed the question at Gerald who remained stiff looking, "Well?"

"Someone of medium impact," He finally divulged.

"What does that mean?"

"You're what I consider a 'high impact suspect.' You were close to the victim, owned the murder weapon and have a distinguishable trait, your left handedness. Somebody that is low impact probably has no connection to the victim, no connection to the weapon and no distinguishable characteristics," He explained.

"So somebody in between."

"-Right. Probably an acquaintance."

"Get your phone out," Helga told him.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

He begrudgingly dug into his jacket and retrieved the device.

"My number is 555-8538. Send me a text and I'll put you in mine," She extinguished her cigarette, "_Don't_ bug me, but if you ever need to ask me something or vise versa you know how to get me."

"Thanks."

"So, can we wrap this up? It's like… 20 degrees out here."

"That's fine with me," Phoebe stood and glanced, with a shiver, down at Gerald. He nodded and put the phone away, standing up to join her.

"Alright, well…I guess I'll be in touch with you," He said.

"Sure."

Gerald patted his jacket pocket and hurriedly reached in, seeing it ringing with a number he didn't recognize. He stepped off the porch to answer it.

"Hey what was _the_ _thing_ that you were telling me about on the phone? Can I know about it now?" Helga turned to Phoebe.

"Whoever shot Arnold left him to die. He didn't go down instantly. I knew in my bones, that you could never have done _that_," Phoebe revealed.

Helga didn't say anything back, only nodded. She wasn't sure what to say back to such a morbid detail.

"I'll see you soon."

Helga looked back at her as she glided down the porch steps, "Yeah, alright," She replied, watched Phoebe sidle over to Gerald before graciously reentering the warmth of the house convinced that she was frozen solid.

"-Thanks. Take care," Gerald bid farewell to whoever he was talking to.

"Who was that?" Phoebe asked as they began walking to the car.

"Pepper. He said was going to be in Vancouver for another two weeks, but said he'd be happy to meet up with me when he comes back."

"That's good news."

"Yeah, we'll see. He seemed like a nice guy."

* * *

**A/N: **Well, it looks as if she really didn't do it. But who did? One hint: They're closer than you think! Dun dun DUN! Anyway, so, as I didn't want to do an authors notes in the middle of the story I need to clarify a few things: First: for those that may not be familiar, yager is a pretty potent liquor that gets you trashed pretty quickly. It's also pretty hard to stomach, but not bad if you're into black liquorish. Second: the reference to the 'love drug' is just code word for ecstasy. Third: The left handed folk (like myself) out there will know what the hook handed reference is, but for the rest it's just an inverted method of writing that's _pretty_ distinct. Fourth: They actually can figure out a shooters handedness. Seems crazy but...yeah. I think that's it. Sorry, every bit of that was probably all for naught. You folks are smart cookies. =).

Also, I've been having a bit of a…backburner conflict with myself over _what_ to do with Sid. Somebody mentioned that they thought Helga could 'do better' than him which brought it back to the forefront of my mind. I like him, but then…I don't know. Should I explore him a bit more? I've come up with ways that I could weave him. Or should I just cut him off? I'm really asking for opinions on this. Sorry for my long winded drabble! =)


	20. Face to the Floor

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold.

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

**WARNING: **Okay, in addition to this chapter containing some language (no more than last chapter) it does have an adult scene. *gasp* I know, it's nothing too bad though…I kept it classy. So much so that it probably doesn't even count. Lol. Regardless, ye have been warned!

Also I've decided to temporarily bump up the rating to 'M.' Even though this chapter is a one time thing and purely something for aesthetic effect, I'm a rule follower and don't want to get in trouble around these parts. I'll take it back down to 'T' in another chapter or two. Cool?

* * *

**Face to the Floor**

"He's stupid, I'm smarting,

I want my baby, where is my baby,

I want my baby, who took my baby,

Rose white, rose red,

Rose up in my bed." - Hole(I Think That I Would Die)

* * *

**Monday – A week later. **

It had been a slow passage of time, uneventful but uninspiring as well. Helga had settled into an unassuming routine, cloaked in subtle melancholy and comprised of 1 part TV watching and 3 parts hibernating like a bear. In other words, nothing productive. Gerald, thankfully, hadn't bothered her again in person or via phone. On the flip side of that, her parents were still being as anal as ever about picking up their house phone, despite her unwavering persistence.

The doctor had picked the stitches out of her arm, kindly relieving the unholy irritation that they instigated from her nerves, but then replacing that problem with a list of equally hellacious physical therapy exercises that she was to do three times daily. But no matter how many times she did them, the residual scar tissue would cause her thumb to always be a little stiff, in other words, it would never be 100% normal again, however, if she didn't want to be subjected to another surgery because of locked ligaments, she'd bite the bullet and do the physical reps. And really, she was just thankful that stiffness was the only thing she would walk away with.

On that particular day, she was sprawled out on the family couch, watching some stupid reality show that she was relatively certain was lowering her IQ by the minute. If it did anything it reminded her of why she _hated_ TV. It was back to the quiet weekdays, everybody healthy and back to school and work. Olga was upstairs, being the slight workaholic that she was. Anybody who brought their business into their house willingly _had_ to have the complex.

Surely.

When the door bell chimed her bored trance was broken. Sitting up, she cast a glance back at the stairs, listening out for footsteps, but hearing none. Olga obviously hadn't heard it and so she trudged through the house to answer it herself. What she found loitering outside was a professionally dressed young man, waiting with arms draped behind his back.

She quirked a brow, "Can I help you with something?"

"Are you Helga Pataki?" He asked.

The question caught her off guard but she nodded slowly. She was sure that he had to be looking for Olga. Why in the heck would somebody be asking for _her_? She was about to find out.

"You are being served." He shoved a folded blue bundle of papers into her hand before retreating quickly off of the porch.

"What the—what do you mean _served?!_" She lamented to his backside but was completely ignored. Who was serving her? She didn't have a disgruntled husband anywhere. What the hell else did people get served for?

"Hey!" She tried one last time before giving up, instead yanking open the papers and reading the most horrific block of text in her life, brows furrowing deeper and deeper in rage the further down the page her eyes got.

"_Fuck!_"

Before she even had time to process it, her feet were blazing a trail upstairs, rounding the corner and barging through her sister's office door. "What the fuck is this?!" She threw the papers down on her desk.

Olga ducked away in an obvious attempt to shield whoever she was talking to from the obscene verbal outburst, "I'm sorry Clive, can I call you back?" She asked her assistant in an apologetic tone, hung up the phone and turned to her sister, "What's wrong?"

By that point, Helga was borderline hysterical, "I don't know what just happened. I am freaking the fuck out!" She began pacing around as Olga opened up the paper bundle and read it, hand coming to cover her mouth in shock.

"I just got served!" Helga continued, "Dad's suing me! He's suing me for custody of _my_ child!"

"Helga…I…I had no idea—"

"-Holy shit…" She stopped pacing, "This is _why_ they were _ignoring_ me. _God_ it all makes sense now!"

"Alright. Just…" Olga trailed off as she wrenched the phone up, dialed their father's number and waited, "Hey daddy…fine. Listen what's going on—"

"-Can I speak to him?" Helga leaned across the desk, hand outstretched. Olga gave her a skeptical look before warily agreeing, "Daddy, hold on," She said before giving the phone to her sister.

"Listen here you fat fucking bastard!" Helga growled angrily into the receiver, hopping out of the reach of Olga, "I don't know what you're trying to—no! No, no, no. You listen…You've got no fucking business—"

Before she could finish, Olga had managed to wrangle the phone back into her possession, prompting a death glare out of Helga. "Calm. _Down_." Olga told her. Helga responded by tearing from the room with an unreadable look, "Hel—" She gave up and pulled the phone to her ear.

"Daddy, what's the meaning of this? I realize that, but to be honest I can't blame her at the moment…I...yes, I know, but I just don't think this is the right thing to be doing. Of course she cares! Why _wouldn't_ she? That's _her_ _child_. Well, yes _nobody_ is going to forget that but…daddy—daddy she's been doing really well and I'm afraid that you doing something like this is going to undo _everything_! I know you mean well, but it isn't your right to be deciding this for her. You…you cannot just go tearing Sender away from her like that! It's already a stressful enough situation for the both of them and…" Olga heard the house alarm beep, alerting its occupants that a door was being opened and she hurriedly shuffled over to the window in panic.

She didn't see Helga in the front yard, "…because it's just _not_ right! Daddy, I know how you feel about her right now and its clouding your judgment—Yes! Yes it is! You and Mom have been model grandparents in this whole mess of a situation, I don't think there is any question about that and if I really thought that she was in anyway…in anyway a risk to Sender then I would agree with you but… what—learn what?" She trotted out of the room and peered out into the backyard, seeing Helga sitting at the patio, "That's out of line! That is completely unfair…daddy…daddy I think you need to calm down and reconsider this…Okay-okay, well if that's the case then I'm going to have no choice but to get _my _lawyer involved on her behalf. I'm sorry but I'm _not _going to let you railroad her this way. Da—"

Bob had hung up on her in a fit of rage and probably for the best because she herself was about to lose her cool. She took a calming breath before dialing her husband's number. "Hey…I need George Glassman's number. I've got a bit of a situation on my hands…"

* * *

Outside, Helga had committed herself to an icy patio chair, head on her arm while she watched, through blurry eyes, the cigarette between her fingers slowly burn down, wasting away. She felt weird, the shock of everything pooling in her chest and her gut filled her lungs with the sense of suffocation. It tightened around her heart and her throat and threatened to choke out everything else that wasn't being smothered. Never in a million years, would she have ever thought of something like this happening. She could handle losing her lifestyle, her friends and her freedom.

But her child? Her own flesh and blood?

No.

No, no. That was too much, too unbearable but the panicked desperation that was viciously contorting every fiber of her being, blanketed her brain with screaming familiarity and unforeseen warning signs. It was always said that right before death, one's life flashes before their eyes. Helga found that to be completely untrue, at least in her case, but sitting there, with lungs full of oxygen and nicotine, her life _was_ flashing behind her eyes. Or rather, the few short years of her life that she had been a mother.

Helga Pataki may have been living her own life in self-induced fog, but there were certain things that had always been and would always be crystal clear to her. And she saw everything involving Sender as sharply as a knife's blade.

Like the day that she had found out that she was pregnant with her, confirming her 'dash of denial'. What a nightmare that had been with the trio of conflicted emotions that had overwhelmed her psyche almost to the point of shattering her already fragile mind apart. She had been happy; Sender was _theirs,_ an accident but a little piece of Arnold that she'd have forever, a tiny life created from their love, something good to come from a bad situation. She had been terrified, terrified of the impending responsibility, of not having him around, of going at parenthood solo and she had been angry because her newly formed idea of _joining_ him in the ground would have to be shelved because she couldn't, in good conscious, end her own life knowing that she would be ending that of their defenseless unborn child's as well. Her tether to reality and, up until recently, a pretty firm one.

The first time she'd felt her move, felt her kick. When she found out she was a girl.

The night that she'd broken down after an emergency cesarean section, two months too soon and begged the universe, begged nature, begged any higher powers that be to spare her little girl. Stress, they had said the cause was, her body couldn't handle the pregnancy anymore and she believed them. There was blood, there were contractions, her heart rate had gone through the roof, her blood pressure had flown off the charts while Sender's had plummeted to critical levels.

She could still remember every bit of it.

The four grueling weeks spent pacing around in the neonatal ward before she finally got to take her baby home, still a month before schedule and still as mortified at the responsibility and the idea of actually being _somebody's_ mom as ever. How one could be so afraid of someone so tiny seemed entirely irrational, and Sender had been the tiniest little spec in existence.

The warnings that the doctors had given her. She could be dealing with a '_difficult_' child. Kind terminology to summarize what could be negative effects from alcohol and drug abuse. Threats that ultimately proved empty. She couldn't have _asked_ for a healthier, happier child. As an infant she cried very little, and, from the moment that she could, had never stopped smiling, almost as if she knew that her mommy needed all the patience and unconditional love that she could muster.

It seemed that even early on, Sender A. Shortman was her father's child. A little Arnold 2.0.

Then there was her first words, her first steps, her first day of school, the first time she ate a strawberry and broke out into hives, later inciting a chuckle from Helga who remarked, _"I guess she did get something from me after all," _Her first bad dream, her first lost tooth, her first skinned knee, and as of recently, her first bully/boy problem.

Every memory passed at lightning speed by her mind's eye, creating a zipping reel of sorts behind those dull, empty blue orbs of hers. It felt like an eternity, but it all flashed in an instant, displaying the true quickness of the mind, and she snapped out of it with a newly developed aggression coursing through her veins.

Now, the foe threatening _her _family wasn't a bad hand of cards, or nature, or the universe or some unseen force, it was _Bob_. Who was _he_ to decide that she was no longer fit to be responsible for her kid? _Her kid!_ She wanted nothing more than for him to just disappear, but unfortunately he held all of the power over her now. So what could she do? She was trying _so hard_ to get off of the ground, and he'd just kicked her over again and pressed his boot to her neck.

'_If anything, daddy really just doesn't trust you.' _Olga's comment rang through her mind. Oh, how foreshadowing that had been, and she now saw it in a _whole_ new light. This is _why_ he had been resistant to Olga wanting to move Sender. This is _why_ he had been ignoring her phone calls. In fact, he'd probably decided that he was going to do this the minute that the doctor had informed him that his dysfunctional youngest daughter had survived her suicide attempt.

It was at that moment, that the anger burning through her veins dissipated into hopeless despair, as she realized the meaning of the ripple effect.

She really had _screwed_ up. And _this_ was _happening._

"Helga, you need to come inside," She heard Olga say from behind her; "Its 34 degrees out here."

It was true. It was cold. And in Helga's haste to remove her person from the situation, she had barged outside with nothing but a thin long sleeve shirt and some track pants. But she didn't feel the icy air; she didn't notice the chill bumps or the automated shivers racking her body.

"Leave me alone," She finally managed and flicked her cigarette butt into the snow, not caring in the slightest _what_ Olga thought about her blatant disregard of her lawn or littering.

But Olga's mind was other places, and she wasn't about to concede to her wishes and protested by planting herself down in the icy chair opposite of Helga. "We need to just let him cool off and think about it first," She finally said, "I don't think he's thought this through, he and mom are just in over-protective grandparent mode."

Helga couldn't care less _what_ mode Bob & Co. were in.

"-But I have called George Glassman. He's going to refer me to a colleague who practices in this sort of thing."

Finally, Helga slowly sat up, giving her sister a dull eyed look, "What does it matter?" She grimly replied, "I fucked up. I fucked up big this time."

"No I don—"

"-I'll tell you what's going to happen. He's going to drag my ass to court, his lawyer is going to pull my record, and it's going to show that I was a drug user, an alcoholic, a trouble maker and fresh off a suicide attempt. They're going to say that I'm unstable and maybe I am. Regardless, _no judge_ in the country is going to look at that and actually _allow_ me to retain legal custody of her," Helga said in a stoic tone, surprising even herself at the levelness of her voice, because she was rapidly breaking apart on the inside, "And you _know it_. So don't come out here and pretend things will be _fine_, because it _won't._"

"Helga—"

She didn't want to hear it, and made it quickly known by rudely getting up and marching back towards the house.

"Helga!" Olga ran after her, "Don't bottle this up. Don't close me out. It's not going to help." She grabbed her arm.

Helga violently yanked it away and narrowed her eyes at her sister, "Olga, I realize that you have this savior complex. I get it, I do. But this is something that _you_ and no amount of money in the _world_ are going to be able to fix. I am reaping the harvest of my _own_ seeds. So leave me _the fuck_ alone."

Olga could easily see the strain, the anger, and the despair flickering in her sister's eyes. Helga was _hurting_ and she wanted so badly to hug her. There were a dozen things she wanted to say to her, but instead she gave her a, "Fine."

Helga turned and stalked off into the house leaving Olga desperately scrambling to figure out a way to fix the problem.

Just like always.

* * *

**Wednesday**

Phoebe came bursting through the front door with the biggest smile plastered on her face, snooping through the house until she found Gerald, hunched over their paper shredder in the study, picking out bits of parchment clogging it up.

"Hey." He looked up at her and paused, "Why do you have that look?" He eyed her demeanor suspiciously.

"What look?"

"That look you get when you're up to something."

"I got us into that house," She finally just blurted out.

Gerald stood up and gave her another questioned look, "What house?" He didn't recall them being in the market for a new home.

"Arnold and Helga's house on Stanley Street." Phoebe rolled her eyes.

"Oh…_oh. _How in the heck did you manage that? There are kids living in it."

"I'll spare you the boring details, but I _may_ have told them that I am writing a book and that fictitious book _may _be about major events of the university," She admitted. Despite how bad it sounded, she had to admit that she was decently proud of her ability to bamboozle a few of college kids.

Gerald's jaw fell, "Wow. Phoebe Heyerdahl actually lied?" He blinked in amazement.

Phoebe swatted his arm, "Get your jacket so we can go."

"What? We're going now?" He asked as they walked from the room.

"Yes, I told them that I would be seeing them this evening."

When he just stood there she gave him a look of urgency, successfully snapping him from whatever trance he'd fallen into and coaxing him to the coat rack, "Alright, I'm going," He said, warding off another 'hurry-up' look.

* * *

Phoebe and Gerald stood on the front porch of the house in question, waiting patiently for their door bell press to be answered. They heard a pair of footsteps and moments later, the door pulled away revealing a wavy haired blonde dressed in work-out clothes.

"Hi! You must be Phoebe!" She said.

Phoebe nodded, "Kate, I presume?" The girl nodded and they shook hands, "Nice to meet you. Oh-and this is Gerald, my assistant."

"Nice to meet you."

They walked into the subtly changed house and peered around with hungry eyes. The furniture was different, and the wall color was different but that was about it.

"So you're writing about that murder here huh?" Kate asked.

"Partially."

"That's kind of morbid. If the rent wasn't so good, I _wouldn't_ live here. It's way creepy thinking about somebody actually _dying_ here. Anyway, my other two roommates aren't here. If you want to look around, go for it. I'll be upstairs if you need anything." With that the girl turned and trotted up the wooden staircase.

Gerald turned to Phoebe, "Kids are so trusting," He shook his head, "We could really just...rob them blind."

Phoebe paid him no mind; she began to walk around, getting a sense of space that she had been unable to get with just the photos alone. Gerald took the hint and began doing so himself. "I really don't know what you expect us to find here. It's been so long..."

She walked across the living room and stepped up the 5 inch ledge that separated the living room area from the dining area and kitchen. Gerald boredly watching her the entire time...

Until a light bulb went off in his mind, "Phoebe!" He blurted with saucer sized eyes.

"What?"

"Come here." He gestured with his hand, "I think I may be on to something."

She stepped back down into the living room and walked back over to where he stood. "Well, do share."

He took hold of her shoulders and placed her squarely in front of him and stepped away, "I'm going to walk towards you, and when I do I want you to keep your eyes on me and walk backwards, okay?"

She nodded and he began moving at her, her stepping back as much as he advanced, never peeling here brown orbs off of his own, just as he'd asked. Further and further until her heel collided with the back of that ledge and she tumbled backwards. Gerald caught her before she could hit the ground and they both stared at each other in a new found understanding.

Both thinking the very same thing.

"Killer was sitting or lying on the ground," She recited Kyle's findings, "Or they fell..."

He nodded and released her, "I bet that's 40 degrees. I had completely forgotten about that little step-down in this house," He noted, "But it _would_ explain _why_ they were down low. They weren't sitting or lying, they tripped."

"Accidental shooting then."

"But it just doesn't make any sense." He shook his head and began pacing around, "Who would _accidentally_ shoot him with a gun that belonged to his household, besides Helga…and we know that's apparently not possible."

"Then it's like I've said all along, it _had_ to be somebody close to them. It _keeps_ coming back to that group."

"But Madison said that Arnold hadn't an enemy in the world. Everybody around here at the time supposedly liked him and, quite honestly, it isn't hard for me to believe that."

Phoebe couldn't help but roll her eyes, "Lots of people are killed without 'an-enemy-in-the-world.' It could have been something spur of the moment, some little disagreement or spat."

Gerald stopped pacing and looked down at the floor, appearing to be deep in thought, "A quarrel of some kind…a love triangle maybe…" He trailed off and nodded to himself, "Then they took the money and the drugs that Helga had upstairs to make it _seem_ like a robbery. But since they didn't take anything else of value, it was _never_ seen as that."

"You know, I haven't thought about that, but that is an excellent theory."

Gerald looked over at her with a renewed spirit that she hadn't seen in awhile.

* * *

_Arnold looked up, through half-lidded eyes at the blonde headed beauty moving on his lap, his body thoroughly enjoying the sensation while his eyes were thoroughly admiring the view. Her head tilted back, eyes shut, biting her lip, with one hand gripping the top of her hair and the other splayed across his bare chest and her nails digging in just enough to make him hiss. His hands crept up her thighs and then a little higher, where he flexed them around her hips._

"_Mm-God, I love you," Helga purred. _

_He snaked his arm around her and sat up so that they were chest to chest. _

"_I love you too." He cupped her head, brushing his thumb across the corner of her mouth, looking deeply into her eyes before capturing her lips in a blistering hot kiss. She met him, devouring him, their tongues lashing at each other, mimicking their lower bodies as they pushed one another to the edge of the cliff. _

_Prying his lips away from hers, he began leaving a searing string of kisses across her jaw, down her neck and onto her shoulder, grazing his teeth against her creamy __flesh and prompting a groan to escape her throat as she fisted her hand into his hair and continued to grind him. Cocking her head, she began teasing him, whispering the naughtiest little nothings into his ear. They fell off of her tongue like hot honey, sending a wave of goose bumps down his neck and spine as she sealed them with a light kiss…and immediately finding herself flipped onto her back for such an offense. _

"_Oh, really?" Arnold gazed down at her and asked in a husky voice and hazy eyes. Her answer to him was one of her wickedly seductive smiles reserved for him only, and it nearly caused him to burst on the spot, but he held.  
_

_And with a set jaw he began moving again, establishing a much more rapid pace that she expertly matched. A quick look into each others eyes, told them that they were both reaching the edge of that jump off point. He was eager to take them there, his body was screaming for release as his hand trailed down her body, seemingly on its own accord to where his fingers could find that special spot at her center that caused her to arch her back into him and spew out a string of profanities. It spurred him on, pushing him harder and faster until he felt her finally tighten and convulse so deliciously all around him it made his teeth grind. _

"_A-Arna-ah!-" He silenced her with his mouth as she let go and tumbled into a pool of pure bliss. Watching and feeling her unravel from her orgasm beneath him was more than enough to send him flying over the edge after her.  
_

"_Helga…" He grunted and came completely undone with her, falling away from her lips and burying his face into her shoulder. _

_His breaths were ragged and short and Helga's mind was still such a jumbled mess that she barely registered that he had rolled off of her and pulled her into his arms. She nuzzled into his chest, listening to his heartbeat slowly steadying, splaying her hand out over his abdomen and brushing her fingers through the light smattering of hair that ran from his belly button down to his lower region. They stayed that way for some time, basking quietly in their post coital afterglow, too exhausted to move. _

"_Arna-ah?" Arnold finally taunted in a low voice and Helga felt his lips smile against her hair. _

"_I look forward to the day when you finally become bored with making fun of my sex words." She chuckled. _

"_It's only because I love knowing that I can do that to you." _

_At that, she sat up and swatted his stomach, "You better be careful, or your ego is going to inflate that head of yours back to its childhood size, bucko." She smirked down at him. _

_If there was one thing that she had learned about Arnold during their time together it was that, while he was the nicest, sweetest guy in town, the boy was also an insatiable sexual beast, and far from the prude she'd always assumed him. One would never hear a complaint uttered from her mouth though. _

_He leaned up to her, throwing her one of those half-lidded smiles that he was known for, "Whatever you say, Helga-ah," He mocked her name before quickly kissing her on the lips. _

_She sighed and hurled her upper body over his and grabbed her phone off of the bedside table, taking a peek at the time. "We've literally spent all morning in bed." _

"_What time is it?"_

"_11:45." _

"_It's been a long week," Arnold commented absently, reaching out and twirling a few strands of her hair between his fingers. _

_She smiled and kissed his wrist, "I didn't say I was complaining." _

"_Have you called your dad?"_

"_Why would I call him?" She sat up completely and gave him a funny look. _

"_Because he randomly dropped a good bit of money into your account this week."_

"_And?"_

_Arnold sat up, "And aren't you curious as to why? You two haven't spoken in months. He pretty much wrote you off last time we saw him, which I can't really blame him for." _

_Helga only rolled her eyes and snorted, "The only way Bob would really write me off would be if you took me somewhere far, far away…preferably with your last name. That way I could no longer soil the Pataki reputation around here." She laughed. _

_Arnold gave her that look that said he thought she was full of it. And apparently, he didn't find it as funny as she did either. _

"_He keeps tabs on me," She assured and hopped out of the bed, pulling the hair tie off of her wrist and piling her locks atop her head, "The fact that he's being financially nice to me means only that Olga has been laying the guilt on him thick." She gave him a casual shrug before walking off into the bathroom, "You coming or what?"_

_He heard the shower turn on and knew that was his cue to follow. _

"_I fail to see how Olga has much to do with any of this." He pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the warm spray with her. _

"_Sure she does. She just swooped in with all of her perfectness and said something to the effect of, 'but daddy she's your daughter you can't abandon her, no matter what!'" She mimicked her sister's airy sing-song voice, "Or some crap like that and presto! She's 'saved the day.' Or at least in her mind anyway."_

_Arnold sighed, "If you want me to be honest, this whole entire situation is ridiculous and could have been avoided in the first place." _

"_Arnold, just leave it alone," She replied irritably. _

"_No I'm not. I think it was a bad idea for you to break into his store, and even worse of an idea to refuse to give him that stupid gun back—"_

"_-We've had this conversation before-"_

"_-And I think it's a terrible idea to keep it here."_

_Helga turned around and gave him an are-you-serious kind of look, perching a hand on her hip, "Why does that put your panties in a wad exactly?"_

_He ran his hands over his head a few times, "I just…don't like how it's constantly being loaned out to the neighbors."_

"_The guys are cool—"_

"_I like Pepper, and Casey, and David and Seth just fine but I just think that it's a recipe for problems. Weapons like that should be kept in a safe, reserved for home defense not passed around like a best-selling book! But we wouldn't be standing here having this conversation if you would have just admitted that you did something stupid, apologized and given it back to your father months ago!" He hadn't even noticed that his voice had risen considerably, but Helga had and she was fixing him with a very sour look._

_She didn't say anything, really couldn't, he was right, but she wasn't going to admit it so, instead she yanked the curtain back and went to step out of the shower. She wasn't sticking around for that.  
_

"_Oh come on, don't go anywhere," Arnold said in a softer voice, "I'm sorry for getting heated."_

"_Leave me alone," Helga snapped. _

"_No," He grabbed hold of her and pulled her back into him, "Forget I said anything. Let's just enjoy our shower, okay?"_

_After a moment, she finally nodded against his chest._

* * *

**A/N: **Yeeaaahhhh, I felt like writing something a little different. A drop-in sex scene, why the heck not! I absolutely sucked at writing it, I did but...hey. To be honest though, I've always enjoyed the scene in movies and tv shows that drop in like that then turn into heated conversations between the characters. To me, there is something so honest and raw about them. I've been _dying_ to throw one into this story between Helga and Arnold. And its like a ONE TIME THING for this story. As far as everything else, honestly I don't think Bob is doing anything utterly terrible or scoff worthy. I think that if I was Helga's parents, I'd probably do the same thing to protect my grandchild from what I thought was a bad situation. If anything, it succeeded in making her think long and hard about everything in a way that nothing else would.

Sorry if the step in the house is a little confusing. It's like this bizarre architectural thing that is in some older houses. My grandparents have one in their house and so do a few of my friend's parents. It's like...their living room is lower than the rest of the house. It's weird and I trip over that crap _constantly!_ And finally, I guess we'll see how Gerald's new theory plays out. _Was_ there a love triangle? I appreciate your eye balls and dig your comments and all that fun stuff. :)


	21. Mean Spirits and Bad Blood

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold, the magazine publication Gun Digest or Cabela, the Hilton chain of hotels or the passing mention of a Burberry dress.

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**Mean Spirits and Bad Blood**

"I feel like love is in the kitchen,

With a culinary eye,

I think he's making something special,

And I'm smart enough to try,

You don't trust yourself,

For at least one minute everyday,

Well you should trust in this girl,

Cause loving is coming our way." -Interpol (Obstacle 2)

* * *

**Monday – 5 days later**

Gerald was about two seconds away from nodding off for a mid morning nap for no other reason except lack of stimulation. No other way of putting it. The parking lot that he was required to park his squad car in for that shift was the absolute worst. Everybody dreaded getting it, and unfortunately, it was his turn that month.

He was about mid nod-off for about the 9th time when he was jolted awake by his phone vibrating violently against the dash console. He grabbed it, immediately recognizing the number and urgently throwing it to his ear.

"Johanssen," He used his professional voice.

"_Gerald, this is Weston Hayes. How are you?"_

"I'm fine and you?"

"_I'm well. Listen I'm flying back Thursday and Hillwood is on my drive home. I figured I could stop in and we could have that chat."_

"Sounds good man. Where do you want to meet me at?"

"_How about the Hilton on Spumoni Street? It has a nice bar and lobby area. Let's say 1:30 or so? Provided I don't experience any lay overs." _Pepper chuckled.

"Okay, 1:30 at the Hilton it is. I'll see you there."

"_Great, thanks! Take care."_

"Yep, you too." With that Gerald ended the call.

* * *

**Monday - Night**

"So have you done anymore digging into his background since we looked up his whereabouts?" Phoebe asked, slipping into the emerald green dress she had clutched in her hand.

Gerald cracked a small smile, "How do you think I warded off the boredom today?" He slid on his shoe, "If he wasn't my prime suspect, I'd probably feel bad for the guy."

"Why is that?"

"He had kind of a sad childhood. His father was a gambler who was found dead in the parking lot of a hotel when he was 12. It wasn't ever clear if he jumped from the balcony or was thrown. He owed a lot of people a lot of money. Then his mother suffered a mental breakdown from it and sent him and his younger sister Olivia to live with their paternal grandparents in that obscure little town that I visited. Said grandparents raised the both of them and put them through school. He started Hillwood U after high school and failed out his sophomore year, the same year his grandmother died. He didn't start back until two years after."

Phoebe gave him a frown, "Hmm…certainly not the easy going childhoods we had," Was all she could really think to say. She popped a pair of earrings on and stepped into her heels.

Gerald quirked a brow, "Anything turning in that head of yours?"

"Not really."

"That's surprising," He admitted and slid into his sport coat with a sigh, "I _really_ don't feel like going to eat with my family tonight."

"Your mother would be devastated to hear you say that." She gave him a playful smirk.

"I know. I've just got _so_ much on my mind right now."

"I completely understand that. This whole thing is starting to consume me. It's all that I can think about," She admitted.

* * *

**Wednesday Night**

That week had been especially difficult for Helga to get through. Everything was just a haze. She moped and hardly had anything to do with Olga, her nephews or her brother-in-law. In fact, she avoided them like the plague. To Olga's credit she had been going way out of her way to _try _to resolve the situation. More than Helga thought she really deserved from her. She had stood at the bottom of the stairs several times, listening to her sister pace around in her office on the phone in heated debates with Bob or some other lawyer. The only thing _that_ did was blow her anxiety off the charts. She was practically chain smoking, and guzzling down copious amounts of coffee, and when that stopped taking the edge off of her anxiety, she actually considered forcing down a bottle of mouthwash in the bathroom for a quick buzz. She didn't, of course, knowing that it would only succeed in tearing up her insides and making her physically sick, and really, she _wasn't_ stooping _that_ low. Olga seemed to have intercepted a few of those brain waves, because the mouthwash mysteriously disappeared from the bathroom.

Or maybe she was just on full alert for _something_. Olga hadn't gone into the office on her normal days and Helga noticed that she began checking in on her, especially at night, as if she was afraid that she was going to do something to herself… or whatever. It irritated Helga to no ends, but her sister's over active eagle eye wasn't _exactly_ a misplaced reaction. At one point Helga _had_ gone rummaging around the house, hoping to find the keys to her car, figuring that if she could get out of there, it wouldn't be anything for her to just yank Sender out of class that day and disappear for good.

_How would you like that Bob? Yeah…go fuck yourself._

Of course, she never found her keys, which was for the better seeing as it was a _terrible_ idea to begin with and she knew it.

Sid made the mistake of calling her, and she made the mistake of actually answering it, thinking that talking to somebody uninvolved in the situation would help distract her fizzled mind. Instead she just ended up breaking into uncontrolled sobs over the phone, somehow managing to tell him everything, though she was positive he didn't hear a _bit_ of it because she just hysterically blubbered the entire time, and when she finally did get a _grip_, she had to practically bite her tongue off in order to prevent from _begging_ him to come get her. She wanted nothing more than to just get out of there, they could go off and she could drink the anxiety away, and get lit out of her _mind_.

Yeah. _Right. _She didn't even want to _think_ about what Olga would do if she saw some stranger with shaggy bed hair in a black leather jacket and boots pull up on the loudest motorcycle in the state.

Exactly.

And then came Wednesday night. Olga had come into her room that evening, dressed in a sharp Burberry fitted check dress and a pair of high heeled riding boots, announcing that she and Grant would be going to some sort of company party of his, and by the looks of it, one of those yuppie 'drunk' ones. There was a baby sitter watching the boys, and Helga was sure that the woman had strict instructions to phone Olga right away should she try to leave the premises or anything else.

Jeez, she felt like a criminal with a God damn flight risk!

Especially with the suspicious look the sitter gave her as she slinked by the women and into the kitchen for a mere night time snack.

_I'm not going anywhere!_ She wanted to scream at her.

She refrained, however, not wanting to start more problems, and resigned herself to digging through the pantry for something that tickled her fancy. Pushing aside boxes and boxes, she finally found a bag of baked chips, the unhealthiest thing she could find and plucked it off the very top shelf. When she did, she caught a glimpse of something behind it that made her blood positively ice in her veins.

A bottle of red wine.

She blinked. Her breath hitched. She blinked again to make sure she wasn't seeing things and it was still there, staring back at her with all its dark spherical glass glory. She quickly took a peek back into the kitchen, inspecting for wandering eyes that might catch her before she yanked the bottle off of the shelf, tossing the chips aside, her hunger forgotten.

Looking down at it, mouth already watering, she noticed it was a merlot. Red wine wasn't her favorite, but beggars couldn't be choosers and Helga G. Pataki had never found an alcohol that she _wasn't_ willing to drink if given it.

Yep. She was going to do this.

She sat the bottle down on the counter and began very quietly rooting through the drawers until she found a corkscrew and expertly twisted the piece of metal into the fibrous plug. Too many years of bar tending had made her a champ at this. Her ears practically danced when she heard the suctioned pop of the cork, followed by that fragrant fruitiness tinged in alcohol. Screw a glass, she was going to get in her bed and suck the entire bottle down and hide the evidence later.

_You don't want to do this, _A voice in her head desperately spoke up; almost as if it had elbowed its way to the front of a crowd, _You're going to throw away everything. It's the worst thing you can do._

_-So what…_

_You know Olga is trying to help you right now. You're going to make her look like a fool…_

_-Well maybe she is for trusting me to do the right thing…_

_This isn't going to help you keep Sender-_

_-I've already lost her-_

_-But you promised her that you wouldn't screw up anymore._

She let go of the bottle and pushed away from the counter, "Oh…shit, shit, _shit_…" She swore under her breath, running both of her hands over her head and through her hair and began pacing around. What was the doing?

Like a magnet, her eyes were pulled back to the bottle. She licked her lips. What if…she just had…a little? Just a little. She reached out to it. Just enough to—

_-You promised to stay clean. You promised to be a good mom again…_

She yanked her hand away as if the bottle had burned her.

That smell just kept wafting around and she wanted it so badly she could taste it. "God dammit…" She closed her eyes and took a deep open mouthed breath, reopened them and grabbed hold of the bottle again, tipping it into the sink and letting its ruby liquid splash down the drain, grinding her teeth in agony the entire time.

When the bottle had completely emptied, she sat it down in the sink and stepped away from the counter again. An unusual inner feeling of peace had begun creeping through her core had her feeling almost lightheaded.

_Well, look at you, _That little voice said in a much happier tone, _You picked her over your crutch. You picked __**you**__ over your crutch. Looks like you might be cut out for the straight and narrow after all… _

Her inner voice was right. She wanted that alcohol, God did she _ever_ want it…but she wanted her daughter back _more._ She wanted to get better _more_. Her lightheadedness subsided, and the fact of knowing that she'd been able to override the bane of her existence actually made a small smile quirk the corner of her mouth.

* * *

Helga sat up in her bed hearing a pattern of thunderous footsteps careening down the hallway in the direction of her room before…

"Helga!" Olga came busting through the door, Grant on her heels, "I'm trying my hardest not to be furious with you but—"

"I didn't drink it." Helga muted the TV.

Her sister stopped in her tracks and a puzzled look took over her face, "You…you didn't drink it?"

"Do you really think I would leave it in the sink if I did?"

"Well I—"

"-I dumped it out. I found it, opened it to drink it…but when I couldn't…I had to dump it."

Grant cleared his throat, "I'm really sorry about that. My boss gave me it the other day. I stuck it in the pantry not really thinking that you—"

"It's cool. Sorry I wasted it."

He nodded and looked at his wife, "I'm going to head upstairs." Olga tossed him a distracted acknowledgement and he walked off.

"You couldn't?" Olga repeated.

"No."

"You couldn't…"

Helga sighed. What was her deal? "Jesus Christ. _No_, I couldn't. I cracked that shit open and I started thinking about all of this stuff and then it just…occurred to me that it really wasn't worth it."

"You really are a woman on fire aren't you?"

Helga pulled her knees up and picked a thread off of her sweat pants, "If by that you mean a chick that's just gotten her priorities in order, then sure." A ghost of a smile fluttered across her lips, "As it turns out, Sender overrides my vice when backed into a corner."

Olga sat down on the edge of the bed, "That's why you couldn't drink it."

"It wasn't just that. It was a few things," She vaguely replied and her sister nodded. They sat in silence for a few moments before, "I'm...Olga I'm really sorry for yelling at you the other day and for being so…closed off this week," She began, "You definitely don't deserve it considering just how much you've gone out of your way to help me when you don't have to."

Olga tilted her head and smiled gingerly, "You listen to me Helga Pataki: you don't need to apologize to me. You're my little sister; nothing I do for you is ever going 'out of my way'."

Helga nodded.

"I know its been a rough week but we're going to get this whole situation figured out. It may take some time but we will." Olga patted her on the knee.

"So I'm guessing Dad hasn't budged huh?"

"I'd like to think I'm making some headway, but he is an incredibly stubborn man once his mind is set." Olga admitted and Helga nodded, a noticeable amount of sadness dragging her face down.

"I'm so proud of you, you know." Olga smiled.

"Yeah?" Helga looked up and for some weird reason, hearing her sister say that made her feel really good.

"You wasted an expensive bottle of merlot, but I'm glad that you poured it out."

Helga chuckled, "Baby steps. Were you really coming in here to rip my head off?"

"Well, I had prepared a very good scolding on the way down the hallway." Olga laughed as well.

* * *

**Thursday – 1:20 p.m.**

Notepad: check. Pen: check. Recorder: check. Gun: check. Handcuffs: check.

Okay, so maybe Gerald was a little _over_ cautious. But with the way things had been going, there was no telling _what_ to expect.

He walked into the lobby, peering around at the modern square design scheme, water falls in the walls, fire places between booths, tiny rectangle benches, reds, browns, greens, the works. His eyes finally came to rest on a single guy with dark hair that was freckled with grey, reading a magazine at one of the booths. He walked over and Pepper lowered his magazine, giving him a friendly grin.

"Gerald?" He outstretched his hand.

Gerald nodded and shook his awaiting paw, "Nice to meet you," He said and slid into the opposite seat.

"You too."

Now that he was up close, he could really see how, for lack of a better term, _peppered_ Weston's black hair was with grey hairs. It was pretty obvious where the nickname came from. If Gerald had to guess, he'd say that the guy had probably started going grey in high school. Talk about getting the wrong end of the gene stick. But he wasn't there to mentally cut down the man's gene pool now was he?

No.

"So you've reopened Arnold's case?" Pepper asked, taking a quick sip from his coffee.

Gerald's brow lifted a fraction of an inch. Curious statement…

"It never was closed, just…abandoned," He finally replied, his eyes falling to the magazine that Pepper had been reading: '_Gun Digest_' and underneath that a _'Cabela'_ catalog. What a surprise. "Do you mind if I take some notes?" He pulled out his note pad and pen.

"Not at all. I'm glad you're pursuing it. I always liked Arnold."

Weirdly enough, Gerald thought that he actually sounded truly sincere in that statement. Which made him mentally take a step back and re-evaluate his angle with this guy. Either he was the most candid individual ever, or he was dealing with a real sociopath. And sometimes…it was hard to tell which.

"He and I were a lot alike…"

"Oh, why is that?"

"We were both little abandoned boys, raised by our grandparents, trying to make a place for ourselves in this world…"

If Pepper thought that they had so much in common, Gerald couldn't help but wonder if _Helga_ was part of that common area too. Not to mention he was _itching_ to test the waters with his newest theory.

"…In fact, I imagine that under different circumstances we would have been great friends."

Gerald immediately scowled, "And just what exactly does that mean?" He asked, unable to hide the harshness that crept into his tone.

Seemingly unaffected by the hostility, Pepper smiled warmly at him, "Only that I was into a completely different walk of life than he was at the time."

"Okay, so…was _Helga Pataki_, something that you thought you _both _had in common?" Gerald just couldn't help himself.

He grinned again, "I loved Helga to bits, but never in a romantic way." He shook his head, "Unlike many of my peers, I understood what the word 'relationship' meant."

Gerald quirked an eyebrow, "What does that mean?"

Why was this guy so cryptic? Or was it only him that thought that?

"I'm assuming that you are going to want to discuss everybody else living around us at the time right?"

Gerald nodded.

"Well then this applies to them. There was a lot of…hooking up on that street."

"Who?" Helga and somebody else? Arnold and somebody else?

"Madison for one. Loved her to death, but she had _no_ concept of boundaries. She _constantly_ hit on Arnold, and made _no_ attempt to hide that she wanted to sleep with him."

"That's interesting because she had nothing but glowing things to say about Arnold and Helga's relationship."

Pepper rolled his eyes, "That girl was just _hoping_ that one of those nasty fights that they had would be the nail in the coffin for them as a couple so she could run over there and '_console_' him."

"Alright, what else?" Gerald wrote Madison's name down and starred it for further background snooping.

"There was this other night comes to mind, I remember playing beer pong at our house, everybody was pretty well buzzed at that point. Seth and I were playing against Casey and Helga and they made like 3 shots in a row, perfect and they start doing some sort of victory dance and then Casey just grabs her, shoves her up against the kitchen counter and starts kissing her."

"Was Arnold there?"

"No, he wasn't. He hardly ever came to our parties. So, she like, instantly iron grips Casey's nuts and while his eyes are bulging out of his head, tells him something to the effect of: _'If you ever do something stupid like this again, I'll rip your balls off and feed them to you'_," He laughed, "Helga may have been a party animal, but she was a _loyal_ party animal, I'll give her that."

"So that was it? He just _randomly_ tried to make out with her for _no_ reason?" Gerald commented, more than a little on the weary side of things.

Pepper smirked, "Most of the girls that hung around with us were okay with stuff like…drunk beer-pong victory make out sessions, among _other things_ on the fly. He wasn't used to the boundaries but unlike Madison, he _got_ the hint."

Gerald couldn't help but cringe a little on the inside. From the way Pepper described it, even just in that one little scenario, it sounded like full blown free sex parties on Stanley Street and any given time. He mentally cleared his head of the thoughts but still decided to change course for a bit, "Tell me about this gun hobby that you have. To be honest, you are at the top of my list _because_ of it." He saw Pepper glance down at the magazines by his elbow before smiling.

"My grandparents owned an arms and archery store, which you met my wife in the other week. I spent the majority of my boyhood and teenage years in that place developing a passion for firearms. And now its mine."

"And you liked to go to the shooting range with Helga's I understand."

Pepper shrugged, "My grandfather wouldn't allow me to take any of my guns to campus with me. It came up in conversation one day that she had one and I'd been itching to go to the shooting range and it turned out that what she had was _really_ nice. It sort of snowballed from there when some of the other guys got interested in going as well."

"Where were you at that night?"

"The movie theater I think."

"You think?"

Pepper smiled, "I'm pretty sure."

"Hmm. Did Arnold have any enemies or conflicts with anybody that you know of?"

"Not anything serious that I can think of off the top of my head."

Gerald straightened, "What's your definition of serious?"

"There was one…spat that I know of."

"What happened?"

Pepper's eyes shifted to the side, "Well, he and Casey got into a fist fight one night and…"

* * *

A/N: Cliff hanger! Short chapter but covered a lot. Helga had a huge moment and Gerald's about to find out something that could be a game changer. Well read and review. I appreciate all of those that do. I know its a hassle but us writers like...thrive on that stuff. Lol. Thanks again!


	22. Future Foe Scenarios: A Good Place

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold, Sucker Punch Studios, Pixar or ADT security systems.

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**Future Foe Scenarios: A Good Place**

"And just before she drank it, she said,

Take the wine, take that girl,

Spill the wine, take that girl." -War (Spill the Wine)

* * *

"There was one…spat that I know of."

"What happened?"

Pepper's eyes shifted to the side, "Well, he and Casey got into a fist fight one night and…"

* * *

"_Where do you think you're going?" Arnold rounded the corner of the kitchen, catching Helga as she was treading towards the back door. _

"_I'm going out…" She grumbled impatiently, turning the door handle to leave. _

_Arnold hurriedly rushed to her and palmed the door shut from behind. She whipped around, glaring venomously at him. "No, you aren't going out again," He told her as-matter-of-factly._

"_What is your deal?!" She yelled, her words slightly slurred. _

"_You've had too much to drink. You aren't going back out," He reiterated. _

"_What do you know?! I'm fine! Now get out of my way!" She bellowed._

"_No!" _

_Helga shoved him in the chest. It was entirely futile considering that he was much bigger than she. She did manage to nudge him backwards though. She pushed him once more before turning her attention back to the door he was blocking, which proved to be a poor decision on her part. As soon as her back was to him, he snaked his arms around her upper body, clamping her limbs to her sides. "Dammit, Arnold!" She shrieked. _

_He held on, picking her up off the ground and retreating from the door. She kicked her legs, thrashing about to get loose while he hauled her out of the kitchen, into the dining area and down the step into the living room before her squirming finally caused him to drop her to the floor. Her knees had barely hit the ground before she felt herself being flipped onto her back and pinned down. _

"_That's enough, okay?" Arnold hovered over her, locking her to the ground with his own body, "That's enough." He breathed._

"_Arnold…" She whined, "Get off me…I'm fine!" _

"_No you're not." He shook his head. "__You've had way too much to drink today._ There is no way I'm letting you go back out."

"_But—"_

"_No buts." _

_Helga let out a defeated sigh and scowled, "Fine…" She hiccupped. _

_She wasn't happy, he could tell. She'd be fine after he got a couple glasses of water into her and made her settle down for the night. He spared her one last look over before moving off of her, pulling her up to where she sat woozily, clutching her head spinning head. "You okay?" He asked attentively. _

_She nodded, "I think…I'm going to go up stairs for a little while." _

"_All right," Arnold stood and gently pulled her to her feet, steadying her. She clumsily stalked off towards the stairs and loudly stomped up them, leaning heavily against the railing. _

_Arnold sighed heavily once she was out of sight and ran a frustrated hand through his untidy locks. He **hated** her like this, he really did. _

_The doorbell rang. He glared at the wooden door wrathfully, knowing all too well what probably lay on the other side of it. He yanked it open and confirmed his suspicions. Casey and Pepper stood on the front porch, red eyed with half lidded smiles plastered to their faces._

"_What's up guys?" Arnold asked and not in a friendly tone either.  
_

"'_Sup Arnold," Casey said, "Helga coming or what?"_

"_No."_

"_Whaaat? Yeah, right, I just talked to her like 20 minutes ago." _

_Arnold felt himself grind his teeth, "Change of plans."_

"_Whatever man," Casey rolled his eyes and pushed past him into the house, "Hey Helg—"_

_Arnold couldn't help it, next thing he knew he was grabbing Casey by the shirt and forcefully hauling him out onto the porch, "I said she's not going!" He growled and slung the guy down the steps. _

"_Arnold, dude, chill out," Pepper begged. _

"_What the fucks your-get your hands off of me! What the fucks your problem?!" Casey stumbled backwards, throwing Arnold's hands off of him. _

"_Right now," Arnold stabbed his index at him, "You're my problem."_

"_Get that fucking finger out of my face man or—"_

"_Get out of here!" Arnold barked over him. Casey lunged at him, taking a swipe at his head and Arnold easily dodged the clumsy attempt, balling up his own fist and popping his foe in the nose, knocking him backwards, where he tripped over his own feet and fell over into the grass. He jumped back, shaking his hand in the air before he looked over at a silent and wall eyed Pepper, "I want both of you out of here." _

"_Come on Casey, let's bounce," Pepper quickly pulled his friend off the ground, brushing bits of dead grass off of his back.  
_

"_Ah, God you…fucking…" Casey vented, wiping the blood that was spewing from his nostrils. _

"_Dude, let's go," Pepper began pushing him away._

"_You ever touch me again Arnold, and I __**will**__ be a problem for you," Casey threatened over his friend's shoulder. "I'll be a big problem!" _

_Arnold didn't respond. He walked back up the steps, and into the house, slamming the door behind him. Inside he looked up to see Helga sitting at the top of the stairs with a glassy eyed stare._

"_What are you doing?" He asked tightly. _

"_Heard the commotion," She stood up slowly and wobbly, "'s cool," She said and slinked out of view and down hallway. _

_He barely had time to register a thought before he heard her barreling across the floor and the sound of retching echoing down the stair well. Sighing loudly he sprinted upstairs, taking them two at a time._

'_God, please let her have made it to the toilet'. He prayed, 'Or even at least to the bathroom.' _

_Up the stairs, he rounded the corner and saw her through the open door of the bathroom hunched over the toilet and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Goddamn that Jack Daniels," She groaned and retched once more. He went to her, pulling her hair back and providing a soothing back rub while she continued her episode before she flushed and climbed her way up the vanity for her toothbrush. Arnold gently grabbed her by the waist to steady her as she clumsily brushed her teeth, spit and rinsed._

"_Here," He grabbed a cup out of the vanity and filled it with water, "Drink it all," He put it in her hand and she slowly but surely downed it. She turned and collapsed into him when she was finished. _"_Feel better?" He wrapped his arms around her snugly and gently rested his chin on the top of her head. She grumbled something that he couldn't make out. _"_Let's get you to bed then." _

_He picked her up like a bride and carried her into their bedroom, gently setting her down on their bed before he dug her out a pair of night shorts and a shirt from her pajama drawer. He sat back down beside her and pulled off her shoes one at a time, tossing them to the other side of the room. _

"_I can undress myself," She said lazily and sat up. _

"_Every time you say that, you end up falling asleep in your clothes," He replied flatly. _

"_I'm not a kid."_

"_Sometimes…you are." _

* * *

"So, you're telling me that Arnold just…dragged Casey out of the house, and popped him… all because he didn't want you two there that night?"

Pepper nodded and took a quick sip of his coffee, "That's _exactly_ how it happened."

"What about Casey, did he have anything else to say about that, or make any other comments about the episode?"

Pepper shrugged easily, "Yeah he vented, he wasn't happy, obviously. But, after he sobered up he never said anything else about it. I think that he was more shocked that Arnold actually hit him than anything."

"Why?" Honestly, Gerald was pretty shocked himself. He'd never seen Arnold so much as harm a fly. He could barely imagine him physically assaulting another human being. What did Helga turn him into? "

"Casey and Arnold barely ever talked to one another. I was really the only one out of the gang, outside of _Madison_ that ever talked to him. So, getting dragged out on the lawn by someone you'd only ever said two words to and then punched was a little off kiltering for him."

"Man, you make it sound as if Arnold just snapped. There had to be something _else_ going on to warrant that type of reaction from him. Wouldn't telling you two to leave have sufficed?" Gerald leaned back and crossed his arms while fixing Pepper with a very skeptical stare down.

The guy seemed to know how off it sounded; conceding the point with his hands and a drawn out sigh. "If you'd asked me 7 years ago what I thought, I would have told you that Arnold was just having an asshole moment. You're a guy you know what I'm talking about."

"Mmhmm…and now?"

"I think he was just protecting Helga…from us."

Gerald scowled.

"Not like that," Pepper quickly clarified, "I think he had a lot of frustration with us that came bubbling to the surface that night. I can't blame him for it. If my wife was to start hanging out with people like I and that whole S. street crowd were then, I would go postal on them."

* * *

**Friday - Morning  
**

Gerald wrapped his knuckles against the door frame of his boss' office, "You wanted to see me Lieutenant?"

Davidson look up from his papers and waved him in, "Shut the door behind you." He instructed.

Gerald did as he was told and took a seat in the chair opposite of the lieutenant's desk. Davidson closed the folder on whatever he had been reading and tossed it into a pile. "I was informed that you've had a particular murder file and a piece of evidence checked out for quite sometime now."

"Yes, sir."

"For?"

"I've been doing some light investigation into it…all on my own time of course."

"Why?"

"One of the prime suspects in it was detained in a drug raid that I orchestrated back in September. It seemed like a good time to probe around in the file."

Davidson nodded, "And have you found anything?"

"To be honest, the file is like a skeleton. I don't mean to speak negatively about the department, but—"

"-We all would like to forget the injustices of my predecessor," Davidson remarked bitterly.

"Well, I did get Kyle to do some chop-shop ballistics which ended up eliminating the prime suspect. Currently I'm interviewing my way through a collection of people that lived around the victim during the time of the murder. Ones that were never spoken with."

"Has that produced anything?"

Gerald nodded, "It's pieced together a previously unknown conflict between the victim and another potential suspect."

Davidson gave the young officer a considering look, turning some things over in his head briefly. "What is it that you want to do Johanssen? What's your career goal?"

"I don't want to be in narcotics forever. I'd like to eventually become an investigator."

"I figured as much. Here's what I'm going to do: I'm going to assign detective Stockland to this case…"

Gerald eyes widened, "But sir—"

"-I'm not removing it from you," Davidson assured, "I'm putting him on this _with_ you in hopes that he'll bring a fresh eye. He's experienced. You can learn from him. If it goes well then you'll get your wish."

* * *

**Thursday – 6 days later - Morning**

"I've a surprise for you," Olga said in a sing-song voice.

Helga turned away from the slices of bread she was watching brown in the toaster in time to catch her sister trotting into the kitchen looking delightfully smug with accomplishment, but hiding something behind her back.

That was the part Helga wasn't sure she wanted to know about.

"What?" She replied wearily, thinking about how much she truly hated surprises…though; _this one might not be all that bad after all._

Olga had placed a ring of keys down on the counter top, warranting a disbelieving brow quirk from Helga, "You're giving me my keys back?"

What sorts of strings were attached to this?

Olga shrugged innocently, "Well Daddy finally agreed to drop the custody pursuit. I know you said that you didn't want Sender here right now, but given the circumstances…I think you might be feeling a little differently," She finished with a half smile.

"He dropped it?" Helga blinked. She'd zoned out completely after Olga's first sentence.

Her sister nodded, "He dropped it," She confirmed.

Helga blinked a few more times. She looked at her sister and then down at her keys, "I'll be back later." She scooped them into her pocket.

"Whoa, wait! It's morning. She's still at school."

"She can miss a day." Helga smiled and headed out the door.

* * *

So it seemed that a previous plan of hers had in fact, come into effect. She was at school, pulling her daughter out of class. Except she hadn't any grand plans of vanishing because in fact, she was probably in the best mood she'd been in weeks. She had a noticeable pep in her step walking down the hallway to Sender's class room. She wasn't about to wait around in the office.

Helga waited on the other side of the class room door until it opened and she saw Sender come out and begin walking in the opposite direction, pulling her book bag onto her shoulders. She smirked and quietly walked up behind her, "Hey, kiddo." She tapped her.

Sender jumped, eyes becoming saucers when she saw who it was, "Mom! What are you doing here?" She immediately latched on with a hug.

"Bailing you out. I figured we could go do something today instead."

"Like what?" Sender slipped out of her book bag's straps and handed the sack over to her Mom. She zipped up her jacket as they walked outside.

Helga shrugged, "I don't know. Shopping or a movie?"

"Both?"

"Deal. And you're coming home with me tonight too, how's that?"

"Really?!"

"Yep." Helga opened up the back door of her SUV and tossed the book bag in while Sender made to open the front. "I don't think so, little miss. You need to get in the back."

Sender whirled around, confused, "I never sit in the back."

"I know, but you're going to start."

"Why?"

"Because mommy's trying to be more responsible with you," Helga murmured under her breath. "You're really not supposed to sit up there. I could get in trouble for letting you do that."

"Can I just sit up here today? Please, please, please?" Sender begged.

Helga bit her lip, considering it for a moment before shaking her head with a sigh, "This is the last time," She caved, "Then you're little behind is going to the back."

With that, Sender triumphantly climbed into the front seat. Helga shut the door, rounded the vehicle and climbed into the driver's side.

"Are you hungry?" She cranked the engine.

"I guess a little."

"We'll get something. I need some coffee too."

* * *

The line at the coffee shop was surprisingly thick for a Friday morning. But, she supposed that, that was just a sign of the holidays that were approaching. Boy, time flew.

"What do you want sweetie?" She asked before they stepped to the top of the line.

Sender turned away from the fluorescently lit glass that she'd been staring into. "A chocolate chip muffin."

"I'll get two chocolate chip muffins, a milk and a grande coffee," She told the clerk.

While the muffins looked delectable, the coffee smelt like it would turn her tongue inside out if she attempted it without the aid of sugar and creamer to act as bitter buffers.

_Isn't that a bit funny_. It made her think about the acidic aftertaste that cocaine left in her throat, the drip as it was called, and the fact that she could handle _that_, but bitter coffee was _too much_. Go figure.

"I'm coming, I'm coming…" She finished pouring in some creamer, popped the lid back on and stepped sideways…only to step into somebody.

She hurriedly shuffled out of the way, "Oh my God…I'm so sorry," She profusely apologized to the man.

"Its fine," He looked at his coffee, "Luckily I still had my lid—" He then looked up, "Helga?"

She inspected him more closely, immediately becoming perplexed by what she saw. He still had his short blonde hair, his glasses, though black rimmed now, and a computer bag that had permanently attached itself to his body in high school…it _was_ him, but he had grown into himself in a way she would have never imagined. "Brai—Brian? Holy smokes…wow—hey!" Even she was admittedly struck.

He chuckled, "Yeah, it's me," He smiled. "Long time no see. How have you been?"

"Pretty good. Just grabbing a bite and a boost. How about you?"

"I've been well." He glanced down and finally noticed Sender standing quietly, picking at her huge muffin. "My, my…hello there." Helga followed his eyes, realizing that she'd momentarily forgotten that she was even there.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Brian, this is my daughter, Sender."

"Hi…" Sender said shyly.

Brainy smiled, "Nice to meet you."

Helga caught a faint flicker of pity flash in his eyes when he recaptured her gaze. It aggravated her. Even if only slightly. "Well, I'm about to grab a table if you two care to join me."

"Um…sure."

He motioned for them to follow and he led the way to a particular table at the very back, far away from the hustle and bustle that was near the barista area.

"So what have you been doing with yourself?" He asked after they'd taken a seat.

"Transitioning," She cryptically replied, "You?"

He shrugged, "The same I suppose. I just moved back here from Texas. About two months ago."

She hadn't been aware that he'd left…then again how would she? She didn't keep up with anybody after high school was over. "Really?"

"Yeah. I wanted to be closer to my parents," He chuckled, "As weird as that sounds for a guy in his twenties to say."

"I'm not judgmental." She chuckled before glancing at Sender from the corner of her eye, idly wondering what it must've been like to have a normal relationship with one's parents.

"I actually just bought a house out in rolling oaks."

"Oh yeah? I know exactly where that is." Five miles past Olga's. "That's a bit of a…retirement Mecca out there isn't it?" She teased.

Brainy rolled his eyes playfully, but laughed as well, "A little…" He admitted. "I'm the youngest person in my neighborhood by about…40 years." Helga wasn't sure why it was so funny, but it was. "It's funny, but I can't complain. It's quiet and old people are like having free ADT. They're like watch dogs."

"Hey, I'm not knocking you."

Brainy popped the lid from his cup and took a few hefty gulps of his coffee. "Do you come here a lot?"

Helga shook her head, mouth too full of muffin to safely allow for words. "First time. You?" She finally managed after a couple gulps of coffee.

"Yeah, somewhat over the two weeks. My office has gotten too quiet for me as of lately."

"What do you do?"

Brainy grinned proudly, "Professional videogame nerd. I'm a programmer over at Sucker Punch Studios."

"That doesn't surprise me at all." Helga smirked.

"I'm done," Sender announced.

"You ate that whole entire thing?" Helga observed in astonishment while Sender nodded. "Jeez, did Grandpa not feed you this morning?"

Sender giggled, "Yes. I had pop tarts."

"I have pop tarts every morning," Brainy commented, "What's your favorite flavor?"

"Blueberry," Sender replied shyly.

"Mine too. Anything but those nasty strawberry ones," He over exaggerated with a scrunched sour face, warranting a laugh from the little blonde girl across from him.

"I'm allergic to strawberries."

"Well then you don't ever have to worry about tasting them."

"Well," Helga interjected, "I guess we've got some shopping to get to, don't we?" Sender nodded.

"All right, well it was nice running into you."

"Yeah, you too." Helga smiled.

Brainy reached into his back pocket and removed his wallet. He fished around in it and recovered a small white business card and handed it to her. "Give me a call sometime if you're ever bored." He said coolly. Helga gave the parchment a skeptical look. "I'm sorry, that was a little forward of me." He backtracked, cheeks slightly reddened. The problem with becoming good looking was that it didn't automatically come with confidence baked in. "I'm not…hitting on you…um…" He laughed nervously, "Truth is, you're the first person I've run into that I actually know…which is sort of weird because it's my home city. You think it would be the opposite…so…yeah."

Helga couldn't help but laugh just a little at his complete melt down with words, "Its cool Brian." She tucked his business card into her pocket.

"Great…" He replied quickly and more awkwardly than he intended, "I'll see you around."

* * *

**Thursday - Night**

Shopping had been tiresome but the movie, surprisingly enjoyable for a Pixar flick. Helga hadn't intended to be out so long, night had fallen, and they still had packing at her parent's house to do.

_Joy._

They slipped into the house quietly, hearing the roar of the television blasting in the living room. Bob paused his defining entertainment only to holler about who it was, and quickly reinstated the noise when Helga gave him a quick, "It's me."

In her old room, she walked to her old closet and opened it, sifting through Sender's clothes hanging from the racks and then looking up to see a box on the shelf with her name written in sharpie.

"Oh, Mom! I've got to show you this!" Sender brushed past her and into the depths of the closet.

Helga laughed, "Ah, so you found my hidden compartment eh?" She knelt down and peered in.

"You know about this?"

"Child _please_. I discovered that before you were even a fragmented thought."

She heard Sender snicker. "Are you coming in or what?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes!"

"Oh all right." Helga squirmed back into the space that she'd spent many a days of her child hood hanging out in. She was surprised to find that it was still decently spacious, even for her adult self. The smell it had, brought back a million and one memories. It smelt like wood, like dust, like old, like nostalgia, like obsession, like a childhood she wished she could forget, like a childhood she didn't want Sender to have. But now wasn't the time to be focusing on that, and she knew it. She mentally shook the last of the wayward thoughts away as she saw Sender, sitting Indian style and peering expectantly at her for her approval.

She smiled warmly, "Nice little pad you've turned it into," She noted the pillows, flashlight and assortment of coloring books. "You know, when I was just a little older than you, I used to sit back here and write poetry and stuff. I once even had a bubble gum shrine."

Sender giggled. "What's that?"

"A statue made of used gum."

She wrinkled her nose, "_Gross._"

"You're telling me."

"What did you write poetry about?"

"Your daddy."

Sender immediately perked up, very much interested in that statement, "Can we read some?"

Helga gave her a considering look, silently wondering if she wanted to jump into that rabbit hole at the moment. How could she say 'no' to that face though? Well…the problem was: she couldn't, "If they're still here, then yeah, we can. Now, I've got to get out of here." And she heaved herself out of the closet. One more minute in there and her back would be letting her know what was up in the morning.

She then scooped Sender's clothes off of the rack and laid them on the bed while Sender crawled out, "Is that box your stuff too?" She nodded to the shelf. Sender shrugged and so Helga slid it down and sat it on the bed where she pulled off the lid to take a peek at its contents.

"Hmm…guess I won't have to make a trip to the attic." She pulled out a couple of little pink journals. The box was full of some of her old stuff. Stuff she hadn't seen since the night she'd stormed out with Arnold in tow. There was her old book bag, a framed picture of her and Phoebe, the novel Alice Through the Looking Glass-which she vaguely remembered reading around the time she left-a pair of tennis shoes and an old jacket. Talk about a random assortment of things. She was sort of surprised that that stuff was even still _there_, that Bob hadn't tossed it out.

"What?" Sender asked, but then her eyes widened when she saw the two pink books in Helga's hands, "Your poem books?"

"Yep."

Sender grinned.

"Put them in your bag." Helga handed them to her.

* * *

Helga skipped down the stairs, duffel bags in hand, following Sender the entire way. To her dismay, when she looked up she saw Bob standing off to the side of the banister wearing a sour look. She did her best to avoid his glare.

"I need to speak to you," He said, motioning his index finger towards himself a few times in the way that he did when he was about to scold her with a lengthy lecture.

Her first instinct was to whirl around and bite his head off, but seeing her daughter stop and look up at her expectantly, she refrained. Instead she sat the bags down by the front door and _humored_ Bob with her audience.

"What?" She crossed her arms while making sure she oozed inconvenience.

Bob was wise to her…antics, narrowing his eyes down at her without so much as a second thought, "This is your last chance. Do you hear me? You do something crazy again and I _will_ take custody of her so fast you'll forget you ever had her."

"Don't you _dare_…threaten me," Helga hissed.

"I'm not threatening you, I'm warning you. You aren't cut out for this in the long haul—"

"You know, I'm just curious. Why exactly did you relent on this? Was it really because you had a change of heart or was it because you didn't want to spend the money once you realized that Olga wasn't afraid to spend hers on my behalf?"

Bob's eyes darkened slightly, but he didn't provide her with an answer. "_You_ aren't cut out to raise a child," He continued in a low voice.

"Why? Because I practically had to raise myself? You've got that right; the only person that I've ever gotten any type of parental guidance from in my life has been Olga."

Bob's scowling face became even more prominent when he sucked in a heavy breath, "You listen here—"

"-Tell me something, _Bob,_" She narrowed her eyes at him, "What was it about me that made you so cold? Was your heart just not big enough for me? Was it because I refused to let you mold me into 'perfection'? Or was it because I wasn't born the boy that you'd wanted _so_ badly?" She stepped a little closer to him, taking the moment to ground herself to endure the garish hypocrisy she was about to wade through, "That's the trouble with life though. It never gives you exactly what you want, and you know what? You just have to get over it." She pointed over to where Sender stood, "She wasn't exactly what I wanted at 20 years old. Being a single mother isn't what I imagined for myself. It really freakin' sucks. But, I love her _anyway._ That's the _difference_ between us Bob. I _know_ I'm not a great mother, but at least I can say that she'll never know me as cold, unloving, and unfair like I've always known you. And I think that, that makes me a _hell_ of a lot better parent than you ever were to me."

And it _was_ true wasn't it? Everything about her little monologue. Helga Pataki was a lot of undesirable things, but she was no Bob Pataki. She realized, in that very moment, that she _should_ be proud of herself, if only in that regard. As she'd told Olga: sometimes looking at Sender tore her to pieces on the inside, but she'd never ever let it influence how she treated her. She'd always taken it out on herself. Sure, she may have failed miserably in other areas, but not in this.

"Your Mother and I gave you everything and you spit in our faces."

"You gave me what you _had_ to. You fed me, you clothed me, and you gave me a roof, but you never showed me an ounce of attention or affection, and when I actually needed my parents the most, you pawned me off on my sister."

Bob rolled his eyes, "Give me a break, she _wanted_ you to stay with her and you went."

"Because you didn't give me a choice. She wanted me, because you didn't."

"You just remember whose wing you've _never_ crawled out from under girlie," He pointed at her, "Whose bailed you out of trouble time and time again and—"

"-Oh, for Christ's sake, leave her alone Bob," Miriam said from the living room doorway where she was leaning and loosely clutching a drink.

"Miriam, stay out of this," Bob retorted.

"No. All you ever do is provoke her and quite honestly, I'm tired of _hearing_ it."

"Laying out some stipulations is _provoking_ her Miriam?"

"We're out of here." Helga walked away and reclaimed the bags, "Come on," She ushered Sender out the front door, tossing one last glance over her shoulder at her bickering parents as she went.

Good riddance.

* * *

"Did you really not want me?" Sender asked softly.

"What?" Helga turned to her as she slowed at the stop light.

"What you said. Back at Grandma and Grandpa's."

Helga closed her eyes, allowing a ghost of a curse to flutter past her lips. She began mentally kicking herself for her 'smooth' choice of words. "No baby," She finally shook her head, "I've never not wanted you. What I said back there…it means something completely different."

"Oh."

And that was the end of it. Neither said another word until they pulled into Olga's driveway a few minutes later.

"Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"_I_ think you're great."

Helga's heart swelled. Her 6 year old was playing damage control. A very Arnold-esq thing to do. It didn't make it any less sincere though. "And you're the only person whose opinion matters to me."

Sender nodded and Helga smiled lovingly, "Come on kiddo, we've got some poetry to read still tonight."

* * *

They unpacked, popped a bowl of popcorn and made two mugs of hot chocolate before settling in comfortably on Helga's bed with one of the two pink poetry books. Helga began reading through the poems she'd penned as a child, exciting laughs from the both of them over some of the quirky and bizarre things she use to write about Arnold.

"Do you think he would have liked me?" Sender asked when Helga had stopped reading to finish off her cocoa.

"Of course he would have, sweetheart. He would have loved you. You're like a little bite sized version of him."

Sender giggled, "Really?"

"Yep."

"What was his favorite color?"

"Blue."

"Like mine," Sender mused.

"Yeah, just like yours."

"Did he like hedge hogs?"

Helga snorted, "I'm sure he did. He liked all kinds of animals. Now where were we?" She pulled the book back up, "Oh right. 'Your eyes, like two green jellybeans, are pools I want to bathe in, my head doth swoon," Helga recited dramatically, "and yet… I want to beat your face in...'"

* * *

**A/N: **Hmm…a relatively happy chapter. Who knew I was capable of such feats. And I know what you're thinking. Throwing Brainy in there was kind of random but I promise he's got a purpose in the great scheme of things.

Also, I'm sad to report that this is probably going to be the last update for a little while. Just a little though! The reason? I'm actually getting married at the end of February and things are pretty dang hectic in my life at the moment because of that. But I shall return to you, as always when all of that stuff is over and done with. I sound terrible, I know. As always, thanks for your eyeballs, and special thanks to those of you that review. You don't have to but I appreciate that you do take the time to write something. It's encouraging. I'll be back very soon!


	23. Don't Take Your Love Away

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hey Arnold, Jack Daniels, Coca-Cola, Deftones, Weezer, Beck, Pixar, Nickelodeon, Disney, the shameless quote from the movie "Saved" that I used, or anything else that you could make a buck off of.

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**A/N:** Well, as of February 16th I'm officially in the married club. Booyah. But I'm _so_ happy to be back to normal. All that traveling _sucked_. Got a big chapter here for you guys. I literally wrote this behemoth last night...no lie. I wasn't anticipating being back at this so soon but I've been chomping at the bits. Why, because this story is almost over! Can you believe that? Only 3 more chapters...and possibly an epilog, but I haven't decided 100 percent on that yet. Still...ITS ALMOST DONE! AH!

**Suggestions: **If you guys are looking for another great story to get into, I highly suggest checking out dyingXdasies' "**13 REASONS WHY**" it's dark and bittersweet but it is _such_ a good read. A very talented and original writer there.

* * *

**Don't Take Your Love Away**

"I want to be free from desolation and despair,

And I feel like everything I sow,

Is being swept away,

Well I refuse to let you go,

I can't get it right,

Get it right...since I met you." - Muse (Map of the Problematique')

* * *

_It had been one of those days for Helga. One of those overly long Fridays, filled with exams, quizzes and due papers. It was just unreal. It was like all of her professors had gotten together and coordinated in an effort to make her life as miserable as possible before the weekend. And, to top it off, she'd felt damn nauseated and exhausted __**again**__ all day and by the time she arrived home and slung her backpack across the room into an awaiting chair, she was in no mood to be messed with. But thank God…it __**was**__ the weekend. _

_She heard Arnold out of on the back porch, talking very animatedly to someone on the phone when she galloped up the stairs to lean on the bathroom counter in hopes that the sick feeling would subside. Or maybe something would just finally come up and she could be done with this seemingly never ending nightmare. Anymore, the nausea seemed to be a constant presence in her daily routine, no matter how much she ate, or didn't eat, or drank or didn't drink, antacid or no antacid. _

_She didn't know what the hell was wrong with her._

_Of course, a cause had briefly flickered across the confines of her brain, only to be immediately shoved into the farthest cob-webbed gladdened corner in favor of entertaining more likely and also __**favorable**__ excuses. _

"_Forget this…" She grumbled in pure agitation. With a quick peek down the staircase, she scurried into the bedroom and dug through her sock drawer until she recovered a tiny little bag. Just as quickly she pried it open and spread the fine white powder onto the side of her thumb and inhaled it. _

_She skipped downstairs, her little white lie safely tucked back into the depths of her sock drawer, completely unbeknownst to a certain someone. A certain someone who was thankfully still on the phone, leaving her just enough time to retrieve a beer from the fridge and chug it down to prolong the high. _

"_Hey," Arnold slid through the back door about a second after she trashed the can._

_She turned and leaned against the counter, crossing her arms, "Hey." _

_Arnold removed an apple from the fruit bowl atop the table and flopped down on a nearby stool, "How are you?" He asked, bringing the fruit up to his lips and taking large bite._

"_Nauseated...tired." Well, she wasn't feeling all __**that**__ tired anymore. _

_Arnold stopped chewing, "Still?"_

"_Yep."_

"_I heard you get up last night." Helga nodded, but didn't respond. "You're always feeling this way anymore."_

"_I know."_

_He slowly began chewing, mulling, and then finally paused again, "You think you might be pregnant?"_

_Helga just stared at him as if he was an idiot, "Really?" She asked irritably. Arnold's curiosity was now thoroughly peeked and she suddenly found herself being gazed at a little more intently and…slightly suspicious._

"_I just thought it warranted ruling out. Why are you being so defensive?" _

_She huffed but looked away from his inspecting candy greens, ever reminded that her own were probably dilated like nobody's business, "I'm not," She insisted, fully realizing that the very last thing she needed was him asking questions that could get her into a world trouble for other reasons, "__**Anyway**__. I'm going to try some soy milk or something. Maybe I've just become lactose intolerant." She offered. _

"_Is that why you're tired too?"_

"_Probably."_

"_You sure about that?"_

"_Uh-huh."_

"_Hmm…you sure there isn't a sligh—"_

"_-Yes, I'm fucking sure." Helga pulled her head up and glared at him._

_Arnold looked away, "And I'm a brunette…" He muttered to himself unhappily._

"_What?"_

"_Nothing." _

_She turned away and grabbed a glass out of the dishwasher. Arnold sat quietly and continued to take bite after bite out of his apple while watching her assemble a Jack Daniels and coke… and putting way more Jack in than cola. He finally stood up, tossing his apple core in the trash can harshly, "Is that really necessary?" He crossed his arms. _

"_Is what necessary?" She turned to him, taking a huge gulp of her cocktail. _

"_Can a day go by without you having a drink?"_

_Helga rolled her eyes. In her mind, he was attempting to start something, and this wasn't the day to do it, "Oh, __**please**__, let's have this pointless conversation again," She mocked nastily and pushed past him, "That's exactly what __**I**__ feel like doing."_

"_Well...heck Helga; it's just getting to be too much." Arnold chased her into the living room._

"_So I like to drink—"_

"_-You don't __**like**__ to drink, you've gotten to a point where you __**need**__ to drink. Why else are you perpetually intoxicated?"_

_Helga whirled around with eyes thinned into tight slits, "Can we get something straight?" She marched towards him, planting her feet and glaring up at him, "I enjoy drinking. I don't have to, I do because I like it. I can fucking stop whenever I good and well please."_

"_Then stop!"_

"…_no."_

"_Because you can't."_

"_Blow it up your ass Arnold, I don't have a problem."_

"_Oh, okay. All right." He held his arms up and barked a spiteful laugh, "You're always right, I'm wrong. As usual. What's new—Where are you going?" Helga was stomping to the front door, "You going to leave like normal?" _

"_I'm going across the street."_

"_Of course! Straight to those losers."_

"_I'm certainly not sticking around here for your bad mood!"_

"_Bad mood?! Well I'm sorry if I'm a little upset but you're always over there!"_

"_Maybe I like hanging out with them!" She turned and yelled. _

"_That's part of the problem!"_

"_What problem Arnold?!"_

"_Jesus Christ Helga, our relationship is on the fucking rocks because all you do is drink! We never talk to one another anymore. I feel like I don't even know you! I don't know what's happening with you!"_

"_Nothing is happening with me—"_

"_-You are tearing me apart! Okay?! I'm miserable Helga. I am so freaking __**miserable**__ with this relationship! Do you know that? Of course not! You're always with them!" Arnold bellowed back. _

"_We'll if you're so fucking miserable Arnold, then why do you stick around?!" Helga lashed. Mentally she was shouting at herself to just shut up while she was ahead but she was too hyped up to heed her own advice. _

"_Don't turn this back on me—"_

"_-Why don't you just leave—" _

"_-Because I love you!"_

"_-and just find some other girl—" _

"_-I don't want some other girl—"_

"_-Somebody that can be your **oh so** perfect—" _

"_-Helga."_

"_-little girlfriend—"_

"_-Shut! Up!"_

"_Fuck __**you**__." She finished harshly and a very tense moment of quiet settled between them. They were 5 again, they were 9 again, they were 13 again, yelling across the play-ground at one another in a fit of child like rage. Standing, rooted to the spot by the front door, her eyes as icy and vivid blue as he'd ever seen them. It sent a snowy chill up the back of his neck._

_Arnold breathed heavily, his face like a stone and a violet shade of red while his brows angrily furrowed deeper and deeper. Body like a taut piece of string. The tendons in his arms and down his rigid back were flexed so tightly that he felt he was in danger of breaking apart at any second, and probably for the best, because the burning hate that was smoldering beneath his skin was surely going to char through and catch him aflame. "You know, for someone who never has a nice thing to say about her parents, you haven't fallen far from their tree," He said through his teeth, feeling that same wintery chill grab hold of his beating heart and begin constricting it with its icy grip. _

"_Excuse me?" _

"_Don't act like you didn't hear me. You're as belligerent as your father and becoming a __**drunk**__ just like your mother." He regretted it the minute it came out, knowing full and well that he'd just stuck a needle in the rawest nerve that she toted around…but he wasn't about to take it back. _

"_Is that right Arnold?" She shifted her weight and looked down at the floorboards, and he wondered if he really had succeeded in hurting her. He watched her lips briefly down turn into a thin scowl before she slowly nodded and brought her drink to her mouth, tossing back its liquid before remarking, "Well, at least I __**have**__ parents."_

_And with that she stormed out of the house, not caring in the slightest what he had to say back, or the fact that she had quite possibly just said the meanest most immature thing __**ever**__ to a person that she was suppose to love. To a person that loved her. She didn't even want to think about it. She was just so mad, so very mad that she couldn't even form a proper thought._

"_What's up Fish? Trouble in paradise again?" Madison distractedly greeted from the couch when Helga came barging through their front door. The blonde shot her a few icy blue daggers as she blazed a trail across the living room. "For the life of me, I don't know why you two just don't break up already," The brunette commented under her breath, assuming Helga wouldn't hear, but she heard every word, and caught the hopeful yet subtly desperate glance that Madison quickly cast out the front window. _

"_Got something to say Radke?" Helga halted in her tracks. _

_Madison looked up from her book, ready with a dirty look and a displeased eye roll, "Hey don't hate on me, you're the one that runs over here whenever you and him have a spat," She scoffed, "I don't know, it might be a clue that it's time to find other people, besides each other, to freakin date. Just saying." _

"_Screw off Maddy," Helga seethed. She knew very well what Madison was insinuating behind her carefully worded sentence, and she was shutting it down. "He's never going to hook up with you so practice your home wrecking else were." _

"_Wow you're a bitch." _

_The blonde tossed the bird over her shoulder, strolled on down the hallway and ducked into Pepper's room. He looked up from his computer and shook his head in disapproval, "Don't be mean to Madison."_

_Helga stopped in her tracks and gawked, "I don't think I was being mean."_

_Pepper snickered slightly, "Well you were. She's an opportunist at worst, not a home wrecker." _

"_Yet…" She muttered and began pacing around. _

"_What has got you so jacked up today?"_

"_I don't know." She carded her hand through her hair, "Arnold. I'm not feeling great. I bumped a little bigger today."_

_Pepper stopped typing, "You're freebasing now?" Helga nodded, "When did you start into that?"_

_She shrugged, "Aubrey got me into it. I've been using it to study with instead of the aderal." _

"_Hmm. How's that working for you?"_

"_Pretty good. Keeps me up, that's for sure. It's nice for hangovers too."_

_An hour, turned into two, turned into three, but she never mellowed out, even with a few more drinks. David ventured in and Seth and Casey ventured over at some point, but she ended up being a wall flower, watching the conversations but never really hearing them, too trapped in her head, listening to Arnold's voice insult her over and over and over and becoming more and more infuriated by it. _

_How dare he. _

* * *

_She tore into the house, a girl on a mission, a girl on fire, almost blinded by the anger she was feeling towards him, frustrated with the planets for their star-crossed spats but too proud to ever admit to him that he was at least somewhat correct about everything. She __**was**__ changing. She __**was **__hiding things from him. But that gave him no right to say what he said...at least to her.  
_

_When she found him, he was in the kitchen, peering into the fridge for a snack. He said nothing, and neither did she as she stride towards his person, leaping into him, her legs coming to hook around his waist while he scrambled to catch her. A grandiose gesture that could only be blamed on the alcohol and coke coursing through her veins. _

"_I'm not my mother…" She whispered, pushing her forehead flush against his, her thumb brushing across the soft expanse of his lip and her other hand, firmly gripping the back of his neck, "I'm not my father either, but please, don't ever call me her again." _

_Standing there, holding her in the middle of the kitchen, he found himself unable to think of what to say. He felt a tinge of regret for taunting her mommy and daddy issues, but his heart claimed justifiable cruelty and refused to allow his tongue to initiate any sort of admission. Instead he just stared into her eyes. They were soft now, loving, __**hers**__, their iciness, melted away and replaced with an apology that she was wordlessly writing into his candy greens, "Arnold, I'm so sorry for what I said to you. I didn't mean it," She breathed softly. "At least…at least your parents loved you." _

_Arnold could only manage a tight nod. He was still so angry. He wanted to…do something. He didn't even know what, but the next thing Helga knew she was being slammed up against the refrigerator with a fair amount of force, pinned between it and his body. His hands quickly finding their way to the sides of her head, threading through her hair, holding her in place and forcing her to look at him. Then, resting his forehead against hers, eyes shut, he inhaled several deep breaths in a vain attempt to calm himself, "There isn't anybody on this planet that makes me as angry as you do," He finally growled through his teeth._

_Helga swallowed, "I'm sorry," She whispered and ran the pad of her thumb lightly across his lips once more. His lids lifted, presenting her with the dulled, conflicted souls behind them. Cautiously, shyly, she kissed him, lips lingering a fraction from his, softly begging to be loved back. _

_But he wouldn't, the alcohol on the tip of her tongue bogged him down in reality and the tension that had been smoldering within collapsed like cinders in a fire, leaving him feeling as helpless and confused as a newborn baby. Easing the pressure, he slunk them to the floor to sit, Helga in his lap, proceeding to trail a hand down her back, and tuck his face into the base of her neck to inhale her sweet vanilla scent. He sighed, "I don't know what to do. You have no idea how unhappy I am right now." He felt her hand brush through his hair soothingly, "There's part of me that just wants so badly to leave. Just throw in the towel and end this." _

_Her breath hitched, her body became rigid, but when words never came, Arnold looked at her with glassy eyes, "But the other half refuses to leave you alone. I wouldn't know how to be without you. As miserable as I am, I know…I know I'll be more so if I'm not with you." _

"_I wouldn't ever be able to leave you alone," She breathed, "I never have."  
_

"_I've never loved another single human being the way that I love you." Arnold brought his other hand up and cupped her face, staring deeply into her blue pools, "I don't like what's happening to us. I hate it. I want the girl that I fell in love with that night on her parent's front porch back." _

_Helga nodded, not even realizing that tears had begun leaking from the corners of her eyes. Arnold tried to wipe them away, but they kept coming, like a sinking ship, and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly against him. "I'm still here," She shuttered. "Please don't ever leave me."_

"_We're going to figure this out," He promised softly, "And we're going to stay together. I don't think we have a choice." _

* * *

**Monday– Morning**

"Johanssen, I admire your determination, but your interview style needs flexibility." Detective Peter Stockland flopped down in the chair opposite of Gerald's tiny desk. "You only have one gear: Bad cop. You don't like Ms. Pataki very much do you?" The young officer looked up at his superior with eyebrows raised high.

"I guess you finished up those tapes…and no, she and I don't have the fondest of feelings for each other."

Peter nodded, "Yes, I also did not realize that you had a personal connection to the victim. Best friend eh? That _right there_ gives me grounds to request that you be removed from this case."

Gerald cursed under his breath and reclined back in his chair.

"However, I'm not going to do that."

"Really?" Gerald was hopeful.

Peter nodded, "As much time as you've already put into this, it would just be cruel to do so. Now, on another note, I made a phone call to a guy named Mike Tanahill earlier this morning. Mr. Shortman wrote him a check for $895 two weeks before the murder. I'd like to know for _what_."

"How did you find that out? I couldn't obtain _any_ of his financial records from the bank. They said they didn't have them anymore because the account was closed," Gerald leaned in.

"Banks are lazy. They _do_ keep records for up to 10 years on their databases; however you have to present a warrant for them."

"Ah. You got a warrant then."

"Correct. You don't think I've _only_ been dipping through that file this entire time do you?" Peter smirked, "Now I'm waiting for this guy to call me back before I go hunting for him."

"Right. Well, I've done a little more research into Casey Reynolds. Guy's clean as a whistle. He's the youngest of his family. He has an older brother, and an older sister, parents are well off. The worst thing I could find is that he owes back child support to two different women but—"

The detective groaned, "I hate him already." Gerald raised an eyebrow in question. Peter merely shrugged, "There's nothing I can stand more than people who _refuse_ to support their kids."

"Hmm…there are enough of them in the world that's for sure," The young officer agreed, "Anyway, what I was getting to is that he works for his Dad's company which is conveniently located about a block away."

"Let's go then," Peter jumped up, "I love drop ins."

* * *

That morning, Grant came hustling into the kitchen, pulling on his coat and buttoning it up on the way out the back door, only to back track just as quickly after noticing his sister-in-law sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee and a cross-word.

"You need a job?" He asked while walking over to her.

Helga looked up at him in curiosity before sitting her word puzzle down, "Yeah, I'll be procuring one of those very soon."

"What are you going to be looking for?"

"Phss, I don't even know where to begin. No more bar tending I know _that_."

"Want to work for me?"

The blonde raised an eyebrow in silent wonder, "Doing what?"

"I need a project assistant. It pays well. Comes with full benefits…I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it would be a good thing for you."

But Helga remained skeptical, "You trust me enough to do it?"

Grant smiled, "I've never _not_ trusted you, Helga. You're a ridiculously quick learner and I know that I wouldn't have to babysit you…which is _exactly_ what I need."

Helga looked at him for a moment, considering his proposal. She definitely needed something to do...and the money. "Okay, yeah, I'm definitely interested but the thing is…" She trailed off before finally sighing with, "Look, when HR runs a background on me stuff _is_ going to come up, and like most people, I_ highly_ doubt your boss is going to be cool with hiring somebody with a rap sheet."

The brunette shrugged indifferently, "He trusts my judgment. I need the help, it's _my_ hire."

"Oh." Helga paused, "Well, alright then."

"Come by my office at lunch. We'll talk some more." Grant smiled and made for the door again.

"Thanks Grant."

* * *

"Is Mr. Casey Reynolds' in?"

The secretary looked up from her computer, "Do you have an appointment?" She immediately plastered a charming, yet fake grin to her face.

Peter smiled, "No, but how's this do?" He laid out his badge on the counter for the pretty blonde to visibly pale, eyes widening as she gulped.

Blinking a few times, she stuttered out, "Oh…um, door at the end of the hallway. Let me phone him to let him know." She did so with haste and then gestured for them to go on.

"Hello," Peter greeted as he and Gerald walked into the office. Casey sat rigidly in his chair behind his desk, waves of curiosity puncturing through the guarded expression he'd fixed his face with. He said nothing as the two men took a seat before him.

After a moment he cleared his throat, "What's this about, officers?"

"You remember Mr. Arnold Shortman? The guy that was murdered next door to you Mr. Reynolds."

Casey appeared to visibly relax, but proceeded to sport a look that suggested he was more dumbfounded than ever, "This is about _that_?"

"We're just having a peek around is all." Peter never skipped a beat.

Casey shrugged, "Well alright then," He conceded, crossing his arms and reclining back in his black leather chair.

"The reason why we wanted to talk to you is we understand that you had a physical altercation with Arnold a couple months before the murder," Gerald said, and Casey nodded, "Want to explain that?"

Casey chuckled and a crooked smirk curled and hooked the corners of his mouth upward, "It was exactly what I'm sure you have already been told. A fist fight."

"What I heard was that you threatened to be a problem for Mr. Shortman after he knocked your block off in his front yard," The older detective said, eyes casually flittering upward to give Casey a quick stare down, "Isn't that what you heard Johanssen?"

Gerald watched Casey grow more tense. "That's right," He agreed.

A flash of anger momentarily dimmed the brunette's hazel eyes while he looked between the two men before he cleared his throat, took a breath and smiled again, "Hey, I'll be the first to admit that I can be a hot head when I've had a little too much to drink. I've gotten into other brawls. In this particular case, we just stayed out of each others way. I never went back over there and he never approached me either."

"Where were you the night of the murder?"

"At home."

Gerald's brow lifted, "Did you hear anything?"

Casey's eyes dropped, "I remember hearing a very faint pop over the movie I was watching, but I don't remember what time and no I didn't see anything because I didn't go investigate it."

The three men remained quiet for a moment before Peter stood up, "Well, thank you for your time. I think that about covers everything we wanted to know."

"Alright. Well I hope I was of some help."

As Peter and Gerald made for the door, the detective turned around and fixed the young man with a stern look, "Hey, you better get up to date with your legal obligations, or I'll be back," He warned and the pair left.

"That's it? That's all you wanted to know from him? I had a million questions!" Gerald complained when they treaded out onto the sidewalk.

"You _have_ to learn to read people, Johanssen. Preferably in just a few questions. He wasn't being honest about something, so we're going to keep him at the top of the list and keep an eye on him."

Gerald stopped, "How do you know?"

"Did you notice how quick he was to tell us that he _didn't_ see anything?"

"Most people generally try to recall something. Especially if there has been a significant time passage."

"Correct."

The remainder of the walk back to the precinct was quiet, neither man saying anything more until they rooted down in Peter's office. "So I think that in the time being, we need to move on to Seth Montgomery, Sid Cook and Wolfgang Moore."

His phone began ringing and he snatched it up quickly, "Detective Stockman…yes I did. Hold on a second." He pressed a button on the cradle and sat the phone down, "Can you hear me?"

"_Yes, Sir."_ A man's voice came through the speaker.

"Great. Mike I was calling to ask if you remembered a Mr. Arnold Shortman writing you a $895 check back in—"

"_Yeah, actually I do remember him. He came to look at one of the apartments that I had for rent."_

"Oh so that was a deposit check then?"

"_Right. First month's rent. I thought it was weird when he never came back. Of course I didn't learn till about a month later that he'd been killed in a home invasion."_

"Do you remember much about when he came to see you?"

"_Well, he came in with a big cut on his bottom lip like it had been busted up or something. He said that he had, for lack of a better way of putting it, neighbors from hell and he and his girlfriend were looking to move right away. The problem was… I was remodeling the two bedroom that he was interested in and I_ wasn't_ going to be done with it for another two weeks. I told him that I had a one bedroom that __**was**__ move in ready if he was really desperate. I tried to talk him into taking that one instead, but he insisted that they were probably going to need the second bedroom."_

"Interesting," Gerald mused quietly.

* * *

**Friday – Night**

"Because, _Gerald, _I just know he had nothing to do with it...because I _know_ him, besides he hardly ever came around, you're wasting your time." Helga leaned against the threshold of her closet, pinching the bridge of her nose while her Personal Pest rambled on through the phone before huffing, "No, okay, I guess I _didn't_ know about _that..._or that...Jeez, _Robin_, no need to be such an ass-because you are no longer Bruce Wayne, you've been demoted since Phoebe told me about Pet-" She held the phone away, glaring at his hang-up reproachfully, "Good riddance," She muttered, shoving the devices into her pocket and proceeded to pick through her clothes.

Barely 2 minutes later she cursed under her breath when her phone began buzzing again, assuming it was Gerald calling back, but quickly discovering that it was Sid. Helga groaned, silenced it and shoved the phone back into her pocket and finished buttoning up her shirt. Needless to say, she didn't feel like talking to him either.

She pulled her heavy pea-coat from the back hanger and tossed it onto her bed. In the week that had passed, she'd had her first day at Grant's architectural firm, handed over her notebooks she'd been writing in for Olga to read _and _made plans to see Brainy again. She was sort of on a roll with good stuff, and she'd be the first to admit it for once. She was even a tad bit embarrassed to admit that she had been looking _forward_ to hanging out with Sir Videogame Nerd, though she knew she shouldn't be, after all, she _was_ in the market for new and better friends, and he was as far away from what she was trying to leave behind as it got.

In the midst of her thought drabbling, Sender came marching into the room, wearing her Father's concerned face, casting an apprehensive glance at her Mother's chosen attire and not liking it one bit, "Are you going someplace?" She finally asked.

Smiling warmly, Helga planted her hands on her hips, "I'm going out with Mr. Brian for a little while." It didn't seem like a big deal, but the waves of distress began rolling off of Sender like an avalanche.

"But…you're coming back right?"

"Of course I am." Helga didn't think it was a big deal, but the way Sender looked away, appearing as if she was on the verge of tears and trying really hard not to show it told her otherwise. What she didn't understand was why. "Hey, what's wrong?"

The young girl shrugged, "I don't want you to go anywhere."

_You need to talk to her… _Her inner voice nudged…_ She's afraid of getting left again. She has some re-abandonment anxiety. _

"Oh," She sighed and took a seat on the bed. "Come here." Sender did and Helga pulled her into her lap. "Sweetheart, I'm…I'm not _ever_ going to leave you again like…what happened in September. I know that's what you're thinking, but I'm not. I'm coming right back, I promise."

"You sure?"

Helga pulled her into a hug, "Have I ever broken a promise to you?" Sender shook her head.

* * *

Helga stood just inside the coffee shop with her hands tucked casually in her coat pockets as she waited. About 5 minutes went by before he came bounding up to the front door, smiling brightly through the foggy glass the instant he saw her.

"Sorry I'm late," Brian apologized as he stepped inside.

Helga shrugged, "I haven't waited long. How are you?" She returned his coolly smile.

"Great. You?"

"I can't complain." The pair took a spot in the rapidly growing line.

"Dang it is _packed_ in here." Brian began looking this way and that and then leaning backwards to glimpse a secluded area in the furthest corner, "Well shoot… my spot's taken." He frowned in disappointment.

"It kind of sucks that it's this crowded." She followed his eyes to the corner. There didn't seem to be a free space to sit at all, in fact.

Brian shook his head, "No kidding. I don't know what it is about the holidays that cause these places to become so _packed_ all of the time."

Helga snorted, "Its full color advertisements in the windows that say 'white chocolate peppermint mocha' and 'gingerbread latte' that's what." She pointed to the foggy glass and his eyes followed.

His brow arched in enlightenment, "A valid point." Fortunately the line moved quickly and they finally ordered, only to continue playing the standing game once their beverages arrived, after they bobbed and weaved through the entire expanse of the building without finding a _single_ available seat.

Finding themselves back in the same spot they'd been when they'd arrived, Brian finally leaned over and said, "We'll, we can either stay here and _yell_ at each other over this noise or we can go someplace else."

"Like where?"

"I've got an idea."

"Alright."

The pair walked out into the chilly night, both thankful to be out of that maddening bee hive. "You want to ride with me?" Brian gestured to the left, "It'd make for easier parking."

Helga shrugged, "If you insist. You want to tell me where were going?"

"You'll see," He promised, digging into his coat pocket, and remotely unlocking his truck. When Helga climbed in she nearly sat on about 5 tennis balls lying randomly in the seat. Upon the owner's request, she tossed them into the backseat and they drove off in the direction of whereabouts unknown.

"You know I never would've pegged you as the pick-up truck type," She told him, noticing his inhaler on top of what looked to be a…video game magazine sitting in the center console. The sight tugged the corner of her mouth into a slight smirk. Some things never changed.

Brainy chuckled, catching that smirk in the corner of his eye, "I'm not. I feel like I need a small farm or ranch with this thing."

"Then why have one?"

"My son all but demands that I do."

Helga nodded…and then blinked, "Wait…you have a son?" Brian 'Brainy' Parker had a kid? She wouldn't have pegged him for that _either_.

"Yep. His name's Lou dog. He's 3 years old, covered in white fur, runs around on four legs and barks. Is that unusual? Cause I'm beginning to think my son's abnormal." He never skipped a beat as he watched her eyes roll, a liberal dash of annoyance in her blue pools from his trickery.

"I'm no expert but, that kid might need to see a doctor…a vet might be better." She chuckled, "So a dog huh?"

He nodded, "A lab that thinks he's aquatic. Loves water. Back in Texas I used to take him to the lake every week. Needless to say wet dog and a car isn't a very good mix. I bought a truck, and throw him in the bed. He loves it."

"Well, that explains the abundance of tennis balls." She reached back and retrieved one of the fuzzy green toys and held it up, "I was beginning to wonder if you were a Wimbledon man."

"Ha! Tennis…you silly girl, us geeks don't know nothing about some sports."

"Yeah, yeah, so you want to tell me where were going?"

"Patience. So where's _your_ munchkin at tonight?"

"She's with my sister…probably doing manies and pedies about now." Brainy gave her a strange look out of the corner of his eye, which she caught. "Olga has _all_ boys," Helga explained, "So, you know."

"Favoritest little niece-would steal her from you if she could?"

"Pretty much." She chuckled.

"You've got a little 'mini me' on your hands."

"Hmm, yeah." She nodded, "She's all him, personality and everything."

"She's adorable."

Before Helga could say anything else, her driver whipped them into the central park parking area, "The park? _This_ was your big secret?"

"We'll I didn't want you to say no," He confessed, eliciting a silent brow raise from Helga. "It's so beautiful here since it's snowed. We can walk around and drink our coffees, it'll be fun," He promised.

"Alright what the heck." She shrugged freely.

The moment she stepped out of the truck, Helga silently thanked herself for choosing the heavier coat that night. She looked presentable and was toasty. _Win!_ Brainy led them down to the paved walking trails that surrounded the park lake, both pleasantly surprised that they weren't the only ones taking a stroll through the golden lit winter wonderland that night.

"Do you mind?" She brought a cigarette to her lips. When her companion shook his head, she flicked her lighter.

"I never would have _pegged _you as a smoker," He said, obviously borrowing her word.

"Nobody ever does. The secret is never smoking in your car. That's when the smell starts following you everywhere."

"Dually noted." Another couple came walking up to them, and once they had past, Brainy stopped and turned around, staring with unknown interest at their fleeting forms. "Sorry, I'm a notorious people watcher," He explained, "Do you ever wonder why these pretty girls pal around with gorillas?"

"You mean like us?"

"Ouch. Alright, well played, I walked right into that one." He nudged her playfully, "Did you see those two;" He thumbed over his shoulder and Helga glanced back once more, "It was like King Kong and the fair maiden."

Helga chortled, "Maybe there just isn't enough of you attractive ones to go around."

"You think I'm attractive?" Brainy stopped again and smugly smirked.

Helga rolled her eyes coolly, well aware of the fact that her face was probably bright red considering how hot it felt. She didn't mean for it to come out the way it did, "It's a figure of speech_,_" She replied and thinned her eyes up at him. "I wouldn't call you a gorilla per say..."

Brainy laughed, "Why thank you for that back-handed compliment. I think."

"Fine, I'll be nice. Have you ever been told that you favor Ryan Gosling?"

Brainy looked down at her, putting forth his best 'I'm a sensitive guy' face, "Hey girl…is your coffee warm enough? I would never want you drinking cold coffee," He asked in a delicate flower-pedal voice.

"Of course you have…sheesh, forget I ever said anything." Helga dismissed him with the wave of her hand, "But you know there is a perfectly plausible explanation for that pretty girl dating the gorilla."

"And what would that be?"

"Well, it's obvious that he probably has an _awesome_ personality," She smartly explained.

With an eye roll, her blonde counterpart snorted, "Or, the more likely explanation is that he's either loaded or hung like a—Holy moly…look at her sweater." Brainy slowed his pace, gawking at a pair that he'd suddenly spotted walking in the nearby path, "That is especially horrible."

Even Helga had to admit that what the woman was wearing was hilariously bad, "Is that a cat in a Christmas hat?" At that Brainy burst into laughter, "Do you think she knitted it on her own?" She continued, nearly doubled over with laughter herself.

After a few moments the two of them got a grip, regained their composure and continued walking, nobody the wiser to their antics, "I liked her husband's Pea coat," Brainy commented and Helga snorted, "At least one of them knows how to dress."

"They say opposites attract."

"Want to play a game?" Brainy asked cheerfully.

"Depends…" Helga cautiously replied.

"21 questions?"

"_No._"

"Oh come on, it'll be fun. I'll go first. Favorite band?"

Helga stopped, "What? No, no, no."

"Yes, yes yes." Brainy pulled her along. "Favorite band?"

"Um…I don't know, uh...Deftones."

"Stoner rock. Nice."

Helga lifted a brow at his ignorant, spot-on observance. _Not bad Brian. _"Alright smart guy, what's your favorite band then?"

"Beck and Weezer."

"Nerd rock. Nice," She playfully mocked him.

Brian shook his head in faux disappointment, "You are just full of insults tonight, aren't you Ms. Pataki?" She rewarded him with a wink and he continued with, "Favorite food?"

"A BLT. Favorite color?"

"Yellow. Favorite movie?"

"I have no idea."

"What? You have to have one."

"I have a kid. A _real_ one," Helga began and Brian feigned offense, "I can't even _remember_ the last time I watched something that wasn't Disney, Pixar or Nickelodeon."

"Is that right? Well, I might have to change that. You know, it just so happens that I'm taking resumes for a new movie-watching-buddy. You should apply."

Helga giggled, "Is that right? So, what's your favorite movie?"

"So you're going to recycle my questions again?"

"Something like that. Answer up bucko."

"Pulp Fiction. Worst job you've ever had?"

"Working for my Dad."

"Dang. You just threw your pops under the bus."

Helga laughed, "Hey, the only thing worse than having an a-hole boss is having an a-hole boss that's _also_ your Dad. What about you?"

He shrugged, "Working at the video game store in high school...with Eugene. So danger prone-"

"Bor-_ing,_"

"Alright, let's take it to the next level then Ms. Envelope-Pusher. The _lightening _round:" He said slowly, building dramatics while his equally blonde companion looked at him as if he were stupid. "What is your deepest, darkest secret?"

"Hell _no_."

"Humor me with _something_."

"I have no ide-I've had my tongue pierced, how's that?"

At that, Brainy became very interested, "Oh really now?"

Helga rolled her eyes, "Down _fido_, it's been removed for about three years now." He looked mildly disappointed. "What's your 'deepest, darkest secret'?" She went on and derisively air quoted.

He motioned her closer in which she complied, "Alright, well…I like to keep this on the down low but…" His eyes squinted dramatically, "I once…got a C+…in…Algebra II. Take it to your death bed Pataki."

"Ugh, you are _such_ geek bait." She pushed him away. "Enough with this game, I feel like I'm speed dating."

"Maybe we are." He wagged his eyebrows.

"Ah, so you _were_ hitting on me the other day, you little liar." She smirked up at him.

"Not entirely. You really are the only familiar person that I've run into. Trust me, it sucks not knowing _anybody_."

"But you had ulterior motives…"

Brian lifted his shoulder casually, "I get bumped into-thankfully not with your fist for once-by a beautiful girl, nurturing her young at a coffee shop. What's not to be interested in?" He grinned, appearing as if he thought it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, you shouldn't lurk behind people so much," She teasingly offered, "So you prey on single women with adorable children, huh?"

"Only the hot ones," He played along.

Helga quietly chuckled. Brian said nothing more, but she really didn't want to leave the conversation at that. She stopped, biting her lip before sighing while he looked at her expectantly, "Just to be clear…I'm not really dating right now," She told him. Translation: Her last date was with Arnold. Hook-ups: Yes. Dating: No. It was just simpler that way.

"What about tomorrow? Will you be dating then?"

She deadpanned. _That smart ass. _"I'll tell you what. I'll take that vacant movie-watching-buddy position you're so _desperately_ seeking to fill," She counter offered. "Only because I've actually had fun with you tonight and...well, its been a long time since I've really_, truly_ enjoyed myself."

_Without pumping yourself full of poison either, _Her little voice pointed out.

Brainy smiled broadly, very pleased with her decision, "I can live with that," He said sincerely.

"Alright then." They began walking again.

"But, I don't give up easily."

Helga looked up at him with a small smile, "Yeah, I figured as much."

A few seconds later, Brainy stopped and turned back around to peer down by the pond at a young couple sitting at a park bench, "Want to do something _really_ fun?" He looked back at her with mischievous glee shimmering in his eyes.

"What?" She asked, suspicion all over her tone.

"There are a couple of teens over there that look like they're on a first date, making out and are begging to have a few snow balls hurled their way."

"What? Brian, no! Leave those kids alone." No matter her pleas, he'd already grabbed her hand and begun dragging her into the foilage for cover, "You creeper…"

* * *

**Saturday**

Sid leaned heavily against the doorway, cigarette dangling from his lips, hair sticking out every which-a-way, gazing through drug soaked eyes at his girlfriend Chelsea sitting in his bed with her arm tied off with one of his studded black leather belts. "Give me one of those will you?" She requested, throwing the syringe onto the nightstand and reclining against the headboard.

"What?"

"Give me a cigarette," She snapped.

"If you're going to fucking yell then get you own."

"What put you in such a foul mood?"

"You." He lazily ran his hand through his dark tresses.

Chelsea laughed, "You're always pissy. I guess she hasn't called back huh?"

Sid exhaled, "What are you talking about." He played dumb.

"You must think I'm deaf, dumb and blind dick head. Your little whore hasn't been through your window in awhile and now she isn't even returning your calls," She taunted in a sing-song voice, "Boo…_hoo_…I guess you'll have to find another one. Or keep it in your damn pants," She ruefully finished.

Sid stiffened, his narrowing ever so slightly.

"What? You think I don't know?" Chelsea snorted and threw him a less than sober smirk while taking a sip of her beer, "I know she's your little fuck buddy when I'm not around, _Sidney_." She dramatically rolled her eyes, "Whore." She laughed again.

Sid angrily stalked to the bed, hopping atop it, grabbing the sheet and flipping her out onto the floor with a thud. "What the _hell_?!" She screeched.

"Get the fuck out of here!" He glared down at her and pointed to the door. Chelsea made no attempt to abide by his wishes, assuming that he was full of at, as usual. This only made him more frustrated. He quickly hopped off the bed and yanked her up by her arm, dragging her, kicking and yelling the entire way to the front door where he tossed her out into the hallway, "You're not going to talk about one of my best friends that way."

Down the hallway, Gerald and Peter had stopped in their tracks, watching in cautious curiosity at the scene developing in front of them. Sid and Chelsea exchanged a few more choice words with one another before she came stomping past the officer and detective muttering whatever under her breath. The two shared a look before walking down to Sid's door and knocking on it, "Let me do the talking," Gerald requested. A few seconds later Sid flung open the door, "Chelsea I swear-" The minute he saw them his anger shifted to disbelief, "You got to be _kidding_ me...look I didn't touch her. Whatever she told you is fucking bullshit."

"Whoa, Sid man...were not here for thank," Gerald stopped him, "Dude, its me...Gerald."

Sid looked at him, really looked at him for the first time since he opened the door. "Boy howdy," His eyes widened, "What uh...what are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to ask you some questions."

Sid nodded and stepped out of the apartment, pulling the door shut behind him, "About what?" He was nervous.

"Wanted to see if you could tell us anything about Arnold's murder. Like where you were that night."

"You guys are working that now? Wow...That's a trip back in time..." He shook his head, "Nah, that night I was in some freshman slut that I hooked up with at Wolfgang's party."

"Is that so?"

Sid nodded, "I'll tell you who you need to talk to. A guy named Casey. He lived next door to them. He and Arnold did not like each other for some reason. They got into it one-"

"-We already know about Arnold punching him in the yard."

Sid's brow arched, "Do what?" He asked, a little confused.

Gerald and Peter both blinked and glanced at one another. Now they were confused too, "Finish what you were going to say."

"I was _going_ to say, that they got into it one night at Casey's house."

"Wait, you're telling me... you're telling me that there was _another_ altercation between the two?" Gerald was almost beside himself.

Sid shrugged, "Man, I didn't say that got into it a bunch, I said I saw them get into it once...about a month before Arnold got shot. There's a girl that Helga's good friends with named Aubrey that can tell you the _same_ thing. She was there too."

"Alright Beatle boots, you better get busy telling us exactly what you saw."

"Arnold came over looking for Helga...and flipped when..."

* * *

**A/N:** Yep, another cliff hanger. DUN DUN DUUUNNNN! Seriously, Google 'Ryan Gosling Hey Girl'...hilarious. And yes, I know a lot of you are going to hate how I did Briany but...I like his character. He doesn't always have to be dark and weird. ;) Thanks guys!


	24. Break on Through

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold, The Doors, Mr. Brooks, Deftones, Lewis Carroll, Alice's adventures in Wonderland or anything else that you could make a buck off of.

**Summary:** A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**Break on Through**

"Cause you're my girl and that's all right,

if you sting me I won't mind."

-Deftones (RX Queen)

* * *

_"You okay Shortman? You look like something's troubling you."_

_"I'm fine Grandpa." Arnold looked up at his Grandfather with a worn face. Phil lay confined to his railed bed, his health too declined to warrant doing much of anything anymore, including living alone._

_"You don't look fine. It's not good to bottle things up you know."_

_Arnold knew that, but he wasn't sure he wanted to waste his weekly visit on discussing his problems. Quite frankly, this was usually the only time he could get **away** from them. "I don't want to concern you right—"_

_"Nonsense," Phil scolded, "My body may be giving up, but I'll never be too old to listen to my grandson's problems."_

_Arnold scratched the back of his head skittishly, still internally debating whether to bother his sickly grandfather with his teenage relationship woes. He wanted-no-needed to talk to somebody about it and Gerald was too busy and bias to be of much use to him anymore. Giving up, he sighed and dropped his shoulders, "Things aren't going so well with Helga."_

_"Ah." The old man half-nodded, "Are you two growing apart or…?"_

_"More like being driven apart. She's just…she's into a really bad scene and she drinking…a lot…too much and it's causing a lot of fighting between us. Our neighbors don't help the situation…they sort of cause it in fact and…I think she's hiding things from me."_

_"Sounds like you've got a whole heap of problems Shortman."_

_"Yeah." He nodded._

_"What do you think she's hiding? An affair?"_

_The young man shook his head, "I think that…I strongly suspect that she's pregnant. I just feel it."_

_"Oh boy. That's not good, not good at all Arnold."_

_The young blonde couldn't have looked more crestfallen if he'd tried, "You can't be anymore disappointed in us than I am."_

_"Have you asked her about it?" Phil pressed._

_"Once. She got defensive and blew up at me. I can't figure out why she wouldn't want me to know…unless she just doesn't want it."_

_"Maybe she's in denial son. Scared. You two are still kids, and… if it **is**, life is about to get much more complicated."_

_Arnold dropped his head in his hands, "I know," He said tiredly, "If I'm right…and I think I am… I just **hope** it's a blessing in disguise."_

_Phil shook his head, "Don't think for a moment that this will be the glue that fixes your relationship **for** you. Children don't work that way. They test the **strength** of your relationship if anything, so you best get busy repairing it."_

_"Short of locking her in a tower, I don't know what to else to do."_

_"Are you trying to talk to her at all?"_

_Arnold dropped his hands, "Talking just turns into yelling. It's like World War three in my house anymore. Half of the time she just storms out. When I can get her to talk to me, and get her to agree that her drinking isn't normal it's like the reset button is hit at midnight and she's back to it again the next day. It's a never ending cycle," He let go of a depleted sigh, "She's an alcoholic, she just can't see it. Her mother's one and she can see **that **clear as day but, she just doesn't **recognize** it in herself. Instead **I'm** the bad guy…I'm the buzz kill. And those neighbors of ours…they don't see what I see. To them Helga is a girl who just likes to have a good time, not a girl who's alcohol dependent."_

_Phil nodded, pursing his lips for a moment before clearing his throat, "You know Arnold, sometimes people aren't strong enough to deal with… troubles like that on their own. It may be that she **does **want to change but simply telling her to do so isn't enough. It may take you making the decision for her. Of course, you have to decide if it's worth it."_

_As much as he hated to think about it, the truth of the matter was, it wouldn't be too much longer before Helga would be the only thing he had left. His Grandmother was gone; his Grandfather wasn't doing all that well, and he his parents were still M.I.A. all these years later, presumably dead. But there had always been Helga. Outside of Gerald, the only other constant presence throughout his life. Gerald would always be his brother, but Helga carried his soul, and he carried hers._

_"I don't have any intention of abandoning her," Arnold avowed softly, "I love her…she's flawed…she isn't always the easiest person to be with at times, and right now…she's a mess, but…she's mine…she's my mess."_

_"Then my advice to you would be to move. Get the heck out of that house, away from those people and get her some kind of help if she needs it."_

* * *

_Later that night Arnold returned home to see his house as pitch black as a British bomb shelter and he didn't even have to speculate where his dear girlfriend was, the music and lights pouring over into his yard from the house next door told him everything he needed to know. After slamming his car door a little too roughly, he found himself marching into his neighbor's yard, the muscles in his jaw flexed from grinding his teeth. He didn't even bother with the door bell; he just pounded his fist against painted, knobbed plank of wood until he got a response._

_Casey answered the door, displeasure immediately engulfing his face. He stared Arnold down, but the blonde never blinked, "Where's she at?" He demanded in a tight, clipped tone._

_"What are you? Her Dad? When she comes home she comes home. Now get the fuck off my porch," Casey spat and made to shut the door._

_Arnold caught it with his hand and stone faced glared, "Where is…she at?" He asked again in a very low and methodical voice._

_"And I said, when she wants to go home, she will," The brunette taunted with that curly hooked smirk of his. One that made Arnold's blood boil the minute it graced the lips of that prick in front of him. He had always prided himself on his self control, his patience, his understanding, but every bit of that was going right out the window, slung out with the spring of a smirk that told him cooperation would not to be had that night._

_"Don't worry; I'll give her back in one piece," Casey winked._

_That was it. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Arnold's self control unraveled into a pile by his feet, discarded completely when the next thing he knew he was shoving the older boy into the house, grabbing him by his collar and throwing him up against the nearby wall to the horror and gasps of the few people gathered in the living room._

_"I'm growing so sick of you people," Arnold seethed through his teeth. Casey pushed him off and landed a blow to Arnold's mouth, gnashing his lip wide open and spilling blood down his chin._

_Now they were even._

_The blonde lunged at his aggressor again, smacking him in the face three times with a tightly wound fist before yanking the dazed young man up and pinning him against the wall only this time, pressing his forearm into Casey's neck for leverage. "You lay a hand on her and things are going to get much, much worse, okay? __Don't **mess **with my family. _I'm a nice guy, Casey, but you've managed to pull out my bad side," Arnold growled and pressed into Casey's throat harder, "So here's what's going to happen, you're going to tell me where she is, and she and I are going home before you all can get your hooks in her any deeper tonight."

_Casey had shifted from red to purple and was gurgling hastily, silently begging for somebody to help him. Help finally did arrive after what seemed like eternity, "Arnold man, you're choking him!" Sid yanked the blonde back, allowing his captive to collapse to the ground to begin a coughing spell, desperately trying to suck down much needed air in-between fits of sputtering. Aubrey ran to Casey's side, but he quickly batted her away, his pride unwilling to allow a chick to help him._

_"Dude, she's out on the porch," Sid stammered quickly when Arnold rounded on him with a dangerous glare. He certainly didn't want on Arnold's bad side that night._

_Luckily, he hadn't any quarrels with Sid and so he turned and left, stalking out onto the porch to find who he sought. And he found her. Dressed in a faux flannel shirt with a pair of aviator sunglasses perched on her nose despite the darkness abound and leaned heavily against the back porch rail. He was hardly noticed amidst the game of beer pong that was currently in mid swing. "What are you doing here?" She slurred at him, tossing her arms around his neck and cozying up to him.  
_

_"Come on, were going home." He pried her off and gently led her down the steps._

_She smiled drunkenly, "What? Why?" She asked, even though she went along with him._

_"Because its time to go, baby." _

* * *

"Is that everything?"

Sid fervently nodded, "Yeah man, that's all I saw."

Gerald looked at his former friend for a moment more and then nodded, "Alright. Thanks."

"Yep," Sid replied, "Are we done?" Gerald nodded and Sid slipped back into his apartment.

The detective looked over to his partner with his eyebrows raised high and his tongue in his cheek, "Well, that'll certainly make somebody bitter."

"I'd say. Two ass whoopings in a row like that…mmm." Gerald shook his head in disbelief, "The thing is…I can't recall a single time when Arnold was ever violent towards anything." He continued, mostly just talking aloud in order to try and understand everything. "He was always the guy trying to bring reason and peace into everything. In fact I can even remember once in high school where he actually tried to break _up_ a fight between two of our class mates."

Peter shrugged casually, appearing as if it wasn't anything new to him. And it wasn't. "Its called 'being in _love_.' If I had a dime for every homicide that I've worked that was motivated by love, obsession and passion, I'd be rich. The point I'm making is, love makes people crazy…makes them behave in ways they wouldn't have before. That's just how it is. Just think about your own girlfriend, and if somebody ever threatened your relationship with her."

"There's no telling what I would do," Gerald admitted.

"And I too would be liable for whatever my bad side could cook up if somebody threatened my wife. But, fortunately for us, these little spats are enough to push Mr. Reynolds to the top of our suspect list."

"Yeah, that's true. Especially since he claims they _never_ crossed paths again."

"Correct."

* * *

Gerald didn't head home immediately that night, choosing to take a detour through Candlebrook instead, fully realizing that calling it such was at the very least, laughable. It was in the exact opposite direction of his humble abode. But there he was anyway, on the front porch of Mr. and Mrs. Harlow, waiting studiously for the doorbell to be answered, and hoping that Helga was in a better mood than last time he spoke with her. Oh, who was he kidding? She was forever in a foul mood when it came to him.

Regardless, he was about to find out, her eyes ever so slightly rolling the minute she caught sight of him through the glass door. She had her phone to her ear and she let out a quick groan when she opened the door, "Phoebe, your dog just showed up on my porch."

Gerald was entirely perplexed, and looked as much as Helga waved him inside.

"Who else...alright, sounds good. Later," She ended the call, tossing the phone onto the counter and turning her attention to her guest, "What brings you over here on a Saturday night, Boy Wonder? Nothing better to do than bug me?" She chided tartly.

He ignored her, "Why the heck were you talking to Phoebe?"

"Is there a problem? She's been getting me up to speed with everything. Something that _you_ have failed to do."

Gerald scoffed, "What do you mean 'haven't gotten you up to speed?' How many times have I called to tell you—"

"-If you call chastising me every time I talk to you over things I _didn't_ know communicating, then you've got bigger problems. Anyway, what's this visit all about?"

Gerald straightened, crossing his arms while smugly staring down at her, "I just came to tell you that you give _terrible_ advice."

"Advice?" The blonde asked, her brow now creased with puzzlement, "Since when have I given _you _advi—"

"Don't bother Sid, he doesn't know anything, you're wasting your time," He mocked, doing his best impression of her voice. "Turns out, he had some _very_ interesting information."

"So you drove _all_ the way over here to rub that in my face?" Helga gawked incredulously.

"I'm not rubbing it in I'm…" He trailed off, losing focus of what he was going to say the very minute he saw a certain little girl peek around the corner behind Helga.

"What?" Helga blinked before looking behind her to see what had suddenly interested him. The only thing _she_ saw was Sender being curious, but it did, however, suddenly occur to her that _he'd_ never met her, and if a quick look at his enamored face said anything it was that he was chomping at the bits to do so. With a quiet sigh she finally said, "Sweetheart, come here." And motioned her daughter over to them.

Sender walked over to her Mother, standing very closely beside her. "Sender this is Mr. Gerald."

Gerald knelt down, marveling at the child, "Hey there."

"Hi." Sender just grinned bashfully.

Helga chuckled, "Why are you being so shy?" She asked in a light and loving tone, and nearly causing Gerald's jaw to fall to the floor it shocked him so. He'd always pictured Helga as a reptilian mother. Slithering around and devouring her young any chance she got. Yeah, okay that was ridiculous, but he'd never imagined her to be as soft as she was appearing.

"You know, you look just like your Dad. Has anybody ever told you that?" He asked. Sender nodded and briefly looked up at Helga who just smiled down reassuringly at her.

"I saw you at the hospital," Sender replied.

The officer nodded, "Yeah, I remember that."

"How do you know my Mom?"

Gerald smiled, "Met her when I was about your age. I knew your Dad too. He was my best friend."

"Mom doesn't like to talk about my Daddy very much."

"Is that right?" He commented and Sender nodded, "Well, I have a million and one stories about him if you ever want to hear some of them. He was a bold kid."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Okay." This time Sender offered him a smile.

"Gerald and I need talk for a little bit sweetie," Helga said.

Sender nodded, "Okay. Nice to meet you Mr. Gerald."

"You can call me Uncle Gerald if you like," He suggested. Helga had to fight the eye roll. Of _course_.

"Okay," The young blonde replied shyly.

"I'll be in there in a little bit, okay?" Helga assured her, and the little girl walked back into the living room area.

"You deprive that child," Gerald accused, resuming standing, "She knows nothing about him does she?"

"I'm sorry; it hasn't exactly been a flowery subject for me," She replied harshly, thinning her eyes at him.

It wasn't in his nature to give her the benefit of the doubt, but he did believe her at least. "Yeah, I guess it wouldn't be, huh." He extended the olive branch.

"When she was 4 years old, she asked me why she didn't have a Daddy like everybody else. _Nothing _prepares for that question, because you can't just say, because some psycho killed him, especially if you aren't sure that psycho isn't you."

"So what did you tell her?"

"She just knows that...I told her that her Daddy is in heaven. She doesn't know _what_ happened to him...just that he died before she was born." She shrugged.

"I'm shocked you handled that as well as you apparently did."

Helga fixed him with a are-you-kidding look, "You actually think I'd spoil my child's innocent view of the world? _Please_, she has her whole life to find out how cruel the world _really_ can be. The longer I can shelter her from it, the better. So what it is you wanted again?"

He blinked, "Um…right, did you know that Casey and Arnold got into a second fight?"

Helga's brow perked, "That's what Sid told you?"

"Yeah. Said that Arnold went over to Casey's house to get your drunk butt one night. While he was there, he nearly suffocated Casey."

"Crimeny…" Helga's eyes were widening, "Now that you mention it I do remember Arnold having a busted lip around the same time that Casey had a couple black eyes. Arnold said he injured himself playing a pick-up game of football. I didn't think anything more about it."

"What about Casey? He didn't ever complain to you?"

Helga snorted a laugh, "Hell _no_. That guy was too full of himself, and he was a total brawler. He was always getting into fights. I just figured that he'd been talking shit at a bar and somebody cleaned his clock."

"Hmm, well he said that a girl that you know saw the whole thing too. Aubrey?"

"Yeah I know her…or _knew_ her. And since I give terrible advice, there's no use in me giving you any so her address is 45 Green Street Apt A. So go find out for yourself. Her name is Steveanna, by the way."

"Huh?" Gerald quirked a curious brow.

"_Steveanna_ Aubrey Underwood. She just goes by her middle name. You know, cause I'm sure you're going to run a background on her. I just saved you some time." Olive branch re-extended.

"Oh, uh...thanks." Olive branch accepted.

* * *

**Monday- Night**

She couldn't really recall the last time she'd actually used his front door. It really had been that long and it made her feel like a complete stranger. Like the Beatles song, she preferred to come in through the window, but, alas, those days were long gone, and doing so would have been highly inappropriate not to mention, entirely sketch. No, using the door symbolized the change that was happening and there was a certain amount of finality with closing it when she left that appealed to her.

Her knuckles collided with the wooden surface of the door a few times. Shuffling could be heard before the door opened, revealing a tall, lanky familiar figure on the other side. His eyes were bloodshot to hell and he looked like shit.

"Boy howdy…" He said in disbelief. Helga knew immediately by the sound of his voice that he wasn't sober, and lord knows what he was could have been on.

"Hey Sid," She replied, "Can I come in?"

He nodded, "Yeah."

Helga followed him in, navigating through his wreck on an apartment, past the million and one beer bottles that needed throwing out, and all the other clutter. She didn't remember it being _this_ messy. Then again, maybe she was just more aware of her surroundings than previous. Sid collapsed onto the sofa and picked up the smoldering cigarette that he'd left in an ash tray on the coffee table, taking a long drag from it, his eye lids looking like that were weighted so heavily that he could barely hold them up.

Helga didn't sit she just watched him, trying to figure out what was so off about him, her eyes falling to the coffee table, to the ash tray, his open beer, his silver revolver laying haphazardly next to it, a belt, a lighter, a bent spoon and…a syringe.

"Where the hell have you been for so long?"

A frown pulled her mouth downward and she looked back up at him, "You're shooting smack?" She asked, ignoring his question entirely.

He chuckled tiredly, "Yeah. It's such a fucking high. You need to try it. I just shot up a bit ago."

The blonde sunk down into a neighboring chair with a weary and disappointed look, "I knew she would get you into that," She muttered to herself.

"So where have you been?"

She looked up at him, "In rehab."

He laughed and then his chin dropped, and for a moment she thought he'd nodded off. He blinked a few times and then said, "No really, where have you been?" As if nothing was wrong.

"I've been in rehab, Sid. This entire time."

A mixture of emotion flashed across his face, confusion first and then it gave way to hurt which then gave way to anger, "You lied to me? This whole time?"

"I didn't lie to you Sid, I just wasn't…completely forth coming. I didn't want to lose—" He'd nodded off again, and this time, it didn't look like he'd be jumping back out of it on his own. That really pissed her off. She didn't come all the way over there to end this just for him to be in a Goddamn heroin nod. "Hey!" She barked, jumping up from the chair and walking over to him.

Removing his butt of a cigarette from his fingers, she tossed it in the ash tray and smacked him a few times in the face with her palm, "Hey, come on." He briefly batted his eyes open just in time for her to begin prying him up of the couch, "You're not going to fucking nod on me while I'm trying to talk to you."

He didn't say anything while she slowly led him to the bathroom and then pushed him down into the bath tub, but she certainly got his attention when a spray of frigid water began falling on him like ice rain. "Oww…God…what the fuck?!" He whined.

The old cold shower. A little trick she'd picked up from all her years on the scene and it wasn't the first time she'd used it—hell, she herself had been thrown into one on a few occasions.

"Sorry, I've got to sober you up," Helga apologized and took a spot leaning against the sink, unenthusiastically watching the shower beat down on him like a wet stray dog. In fact—_no_, she wasn't sorry at all. She was pissed about having to go through this much trouble for a simple sayonara.

She waited for his body to shock itself awake; sucking down a cigarette while she watched him get soggy. "Can you turn it off now?" Sid slowly groaned after about 15 minutes.

He didn't sound totally right, but she was satisfied that he at least sounded a _little_ more coherent than before. With a quick twist of the knob, the water ceased falling.

"Can I get out of here?"

"Yeah."

Sid slowly climbed out of the tub, flinging droplets onto every dry surface around and sounding as squishy and water logged as a piece of month old drift wood stuck at sea. One would have thought a giant slug were residing in the apartment if they were to judge by the slick trail he left behind him as he wondered out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, where he pulled his drenched henley over his head and then wormed out of his black leather pants. Helga quietly watched him strip down from the doorway, and then finally collapse, face first onto his bed with a thud. "So you're like…straight right now, huh?" She heard his muffled voice say after awhile.

She came to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. Feeling her presences beside him, he turned his head and peeked a bloodshot eye up at her. Helga grimly nodded, "Yeah. I'm clean…and I'm sober." His eye dropped away, and she looked away too.

"So you're not going to be around anymore then."

Her eyes re-planted on his ashen face, "No, I'm not."

"Do you regret meeting up with me again?"

The question caught her off guard, but it sent her mind reeling to a far off memory of bumping into him at a gas station about 4 years ago. Back in the expanse of time following the birth of her daughter, when she was making an honest attempt to actually _be good_. He invited her to his house party and she went, but surprisingly not staying long, and not even having a drink. The mistake that was made, was giving him her number. When the call came, and she attended the second house party two weeks later, the self control she'd possessed the first time wasn't equipped to ward off such a tempting environment again.

It was like riding a bicycle for her. She surprisingly could still remember getting hammered, she and Sid having sex up against the bathroom door while "Break on Through" blared in the living where everybody _else_ congregated. It had been so dirty, and hot and wrong, but it had felt _so_ good to let loose and temporarily forget all of the hurt and anger and abandonment that resided within her. Everything she was forced to cram behind the smiley mask that she wore for the world.

Later they'd stood out on the ledge of his roof, feeling the wind billow around them, snaking through their hair like invisible rivers, dipping into their lungs to engorge them with life's breath while they dared each other closer to the edge. She'd felt _so_ alive again. The alcohol numbed the pain, the fear and Sid provided the distraction and together, it was an intoxicating combination that hooked her like a fish. She'd wanted to feel alive, to feel free, to feel wild… to not _care_ anymore.

But it had been one of the biggest mistakes of her life. The beast within wanted to be fed, and the beast demanded more and more and gave less and less as time passed.

"There isn't much I don't regret…" She remarked bitterly, realizing almost immediately just how harsh it had sounded. It wasn't her intention to hurt his feelings anymore than she already had to. After all, it wasn't his fault, "But I can't change what's already happened," Placing her hand on his back she began running her nails lightly, in a soothing gesture, up and down the length of his spine. "So there is no use wondering what could have been different."

"Mmm," Sid moaned.

"A lot of things happened while I was in rehab and it gave me a lot of time to think about everything. I'm not going to be young forever…my little girl's growing up. In a blink she _will_ be grown. I want to be around for that," She paused, "I wasn't trying to lie to you I just…I told Aubrey the truth and she bailed on me pronto…I was afraid to find out that you weren't truly my friend either."

At that, Sid rolled onto his side and peered up at her, "You're my best friend…I mean…I know we've got this fucked up kind of relationship and all but…you are."

Helga's lips quirked upward, "And you've been a bestie for me as well. I know it probably doesn't make any sense because here _I am_, bailing on _you_ but…I still liked talking to you."

"I mean, I'm not happy about it…well, I'm happy for you," He quickly clarified, "I'm not happy about losing you as my friend but…I can't blame you. I probably would have done the same thing. I guess I would have rather you told me in person anyway…even though I'm all... fucked over at the moment."

Helga chuckled, "I'm going to really miss you."

"Me too," He brought a hand up and trailed his finger lazily along the side of her arm, "Can I have you…one last time?" He quietly asked.

Oh she should. She should take advantage of her one last opportunity to get something. After all, her boy toy wasn't going to be at her disposal anymore after she walked out of that apartment. As much as she wanted to, hopping in bed with him wouldn't have been anymore symbolic of a clean break than using the window. Which meant she had to say _no_.

She shook her head and pushed the wayward hair out of his eyes, "Always the horndog," She joked, "Look at you…you probably couldn't even get it up anyway."

Sid tossed his head back, "Ha!" He barked, "Come on now, you know we've fucked in far worse shape." He lolled his head forward, grinning sardonically at her like a smart-ass, his facade slightly dimmed by the thwarted look in his eyes. "You haven't just been straightening out. You've met somebody haven't you?"

"What? _No_. I meet a lot of people."

He threw her a knowing look, "I meet people too. You've met a guy though."

When all she offered up was a look that didn't say 'yes' but didn't say 'no' either, he simply shrugged and gifted her a warm smile, "Good for you," He said and reclined back against his pillows.

"Well, it's getting late. I probably need to get going." She reached out and grabbed his hand, "Take care of yourself and…be careful with that stuff."

Sid chuckled tiredly, "Sure thing," He smiled, "Good luck out there."

Helga nodded and withdrew from the bed, "Bye Sid."

The door closed on them for good, clicking and locking behind her, never to be reopened again.

* * *

**Friday – Mid-Morning**

Helga sat at her desk, working her way through a building proposal that Grant had handed off to her earlier that morning when she felt her phone vibrate once in her pocket. She immediately dug it out, to see that she had a text from Brian.

_"Pizza and a movie tonight?"_ He asked.

Did she have anything going on tonight? Did she even feel like doing anything tonight? She figured it wouldn't hurt. She had signed up for movie buddy. _"Sure," _She texted back.

_"Great! Your place or mine?"_

_"Yours."_

_"Alright. Head on over around 7:00. P.S: The munchkin is welcome to come too. I know sitters are hard to acquire on short notice." _

_"Ha! Thanks but no…I'd like to watch an adult movie, thank you."_ She wrote back.

_":-o Hawt…I didn't realize you were one of THOSE girls."_

It was then that she realized what her completely innocent meaning sentence sounded like. And of course, he had noticed right away. That gutter minded little…oh, what was the use. She chose to play along instead.

_"There's lots you don't know about me. ;-) Pick something good." _Was her hasty reply._  
_

_"Why yes my lady." _

* * *

**Friday-Night**

"Hey! Come on in." Brainy greeted brightly before stepping aside to let Helga in. She welcomed the warmth and was immediately met by Lou dog shoving his wet nose into her hand hunting for a pat on the head. "And this is Lou." Her host laughed.

"Hey buddy," Helga chuckled and gave the canine a few scratches behind the ears. Brian's house could be easily described as a total bachelor pad, but she was impressed with the classy modern feel it was entrenched with. Black leather furniture with tan walls where framed black and white pictures of nature hung decoratively. That wasn't the only thing she was having to take a second glance at, she had to do a double take of her host as well, taking note of his tight hipster v-neck shirt and the ship's anchor tattoo he had on his upper left arm.

_He has a tattoo?! Wow..._

"Shall I show you around?" He waved his hand around the meticulously clean home.

She blinked, and snapped her attention back to the current, "Yeah, why not."

"Well, this is the living room," She followed him, "The kitchen," Also impressive, "The bed rooms are down that way," He pointed down the hallway, "And…my man cave." He said when they reached the door that led to his room above the garage.

Helga was thoroughly surprised by what she found at the top of the stairs. The space was lined with shelves containing volumes of books and old vinyl records. In the far corner was an elaborate turntable set-up, and the biggest TV she'd ever seen mounted to the main wall.

"Wow," Even she couldn't hide how impressed she was by it all, "This isn't what I expected."

He smiled, "What were you expecting?"

She shrugged, "An arcade," She replied honestly.

It made him laugh, "Well, there's my ps3," He thumbed over to a shelf by the television, "But it hasn't been turned on in four months."

Helga crossed her arms, "Don't you make video games for a living?"

"Make them, yes, play them, not a whole lot. I like the satisfaction of building something from nothing and watching other people enjoy it more. I'm not a handy man so...computer language it is." He wiggled all ten fingers at her.

The blonde nodded and looked around, "I see you're still into DJing."

"Yep," He crossed his arms and leaned against the couch, "Still spinning some records. I used to get together with a group of guys and do it back in Texas. I'll do a party here and there."

"That's really neat."

He smirked, "Yeah, it's pretty fun."

Helga walked over to his book shelves and began scanning the titles. His collection was impressive, all the classics as well as an assortment of poems from all the most famous poets. "You know _you_ got me into poetry," He told her and she cast him a funniest of look.

"How's that?"

"I really dug your stuff in elementary school...it blossomed into an appreciation for the art," He shyly responded. It was the first time that she'd seen him get coy over anything. "You know I recently found out that the coffee shop does poetry and comedy nights. We should check it out sometime. If you're still into that stuff."

"Yeah, alright. Sounds fun."

Brainy's face brightened, "Movie watching buddy and poetry buddy. I'm not doing too shabby huh?"

"Hey now, I can't be your buddy for _everything,_" She teased.

"You're right. You might actually have to earn the spot of travel buddy."

"Ah, you travel a lot?" She pulled '_Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_' off the shelf and began flipping through it.

"Whenever I can."

"Where all have you been?"

"Most of Europe and Mexico so far."

She looked over at him and nodded, "_Nice_."

"What book have you got there?"

Helga flashed him the cover and he nodded. "Always been a favorite of mine," She put it back on the shelf, "I always could identify with Alice on some level. A girl running from one situation to the next..." She trailed off.

"Both of Lewis Carroll's books were good in my opinion."

"Why do you pretend to be such a geek?" Her mouth asked before her brain could stop it. Stupid, stupid...why did she say that? Now he probably thought she was the biggest idiot. "It's just that…you're so _normal_. You travel, you've got awesome turn-tables, a sweet collection of books, great taste in home décor and a badass tattoo for crying out loud." She wasn't sure if that was any better.

He didn't seem all that surprised by the question though, laughing a little at her reddening face,"Oh, you like that?" He pushed his sleeve up and looked at his ink, "I've got another on my side." He pulled his shirt up and bared her his right side where the word 'Parker' was written longways in a black script.

_Oh. My. God..._Was all Helga could think.

"This ones the newest. I think its going to be my last too." He dropped his shirt. "And to answer your question...I don't _really_ pretend… it's just a small part of my personality that gets _amplified_ when I'm flirty."

Helga cleared her throat, "Flirty?"

"I turn into a geeky goofball when I flirt. It's a compulsion really."

"Well, that's interesting."

"It also gets me laid a lot."

Helga brow arched, "Huh...that's even _more_ interesting."

Brian looked away, "I'm sorry, you probably just got a _terrible_ impression of me."

"Hey, I'm not judgmental. I'm just interested in how exactly that works."

Her host casually shrugged, "You girls love the whole nerd routine, its disarming."

"Is that so? Care to explain how it's _so_ disarming?"

"No."

"Oh come on! You can't just leave me hanging."

"Alright, fine," He walked up to her, "I come up to you, like this, I'm charming, I'm sweet, I'm probably sensitive because I have glasses, but I'm still a dime a dozen to you right? Now, I come up to you as the flirty 'geek' who makes videogames. In your mind I probably have no idea that I'm even somewhat attractive, I probably haven't been on too many dates because I'm 'socially awkward' and quite possibly haven't ever even been laid...insert other stereotypes. Anyway, suddenly you're interested because the idea of the conquest is too mouth watering to turn away from." He inched closer, "You could be the goddess in bed again and bring this poor fool into the real world, and you wouldn't be ashamed of doing it because despite all of the parameters you've shoved me into, I'm not pimple faced, wearing a fanny-pack and living in my mom's basement. Totally doable." A sexy smile drew his lips up, "Of course, when you get a damn good shag from the me you realize that you've been completely hoodwinked…thus, how it's disarming."

Helga swallowed, her mouth suddenly gone dry. Why in the heck did that turn her on? Was she disarmed? Did she just get disarmed? God his gaze was smoldering, "Is that so, Mr. Parker?" She finally managed.

"Care to find out?"

"What kind of girl do you think I am?" She was trying desperately to shake away the last bits of arousal that lingered, while hoping very much that her voice sounded normal.

"One that likes to watch adult movies?"

She cocked her head at him, "And what movie did you get us tonight?"

"The M.I.L.F."

"You trying to tell me something?"

"Am I?"

Helga smirked, and cocked her hip, "I think that if you actually rented a movie called, 'The M.I.L.F.' I might just die of embarrassment."

"Well, we wouldn't want that." He walked away and grabbed a DVD off of the shelf, "Luckily for you, I got 'Mr. Brooks' instead." He grinned.

"Thank God for that." She walked around and flopped down on his couch.

"I'm going to go grab the pizza. What do you want to drink? I've got water, soda, gatorade or wine if you'd rather?"

"I'll take a soda."

* * *

"You headed home for the night Johanssen?" Peter called when he saw Gerald slipping his coat on. The officer grabbed the rest of his belongings and walked over into his partner's office.

"Yeah, I'm burnt out. You staying?"

The detective nodded, "Yeah. I've got some back paper work I've got to get done. Stuff's just been piling up."

"Need some help?" Gerald offered.

Peter waved him off, "Nah. Get out of here. I'm fine."

"Alright, well I'll see you Mon—"

"-Detective Stockland?" A rookie cop stuck his head in the door, "There's a woman out here. She says she needs to speak with you."

Peter glanced at Gerald and sighed, "Ain't no rest for the wicked. Send her back."

Both men's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when the Reynolds' secretary, the pretty blonde came waltzing through the door.

"Hi. Can we help you?" Peter stood up.

"I've got some things to tell you," She replied. Well, that answered his question.

"Sit down," He gestured to a chair and took a seat himself. Meanwhile, Gerald had quietly seated himself in a neighboring chair.

"What's your name?"

"Janna." The blonde took a seat, sitting her purse in her lap, "I'll just cut to the chase. I think Casey Reynolds is hiding something."

"Like what?" Gerald asked.

Janna began fidgeting with her hands, "About a year ago, a woman came to see Casey. Nothing unusual, until I caught the tail end of the conversation they were having. At some point I guess he'd accidentally hit the button on the desk call and I heard her tell him that if she didn't write him a check, she was going to the cops and was going to ruin them both, _especially_ him." The woman swallowed, "Whatever she knew rattled him because he immediately had me call down to payroll and tell them that this woman would be down and to authorize a check to her for $9000."

Peter looked up, "Do you have a name on this woman?"

"She only signed in with her first name. Steveanna."

Gerald nearly choked and threw a desperate glance at his partner, "Peter can I speak to you for a moment?" Urgency firmly woven in his request.

The detective nodded and the two men stepped outside, "What's this about?" He asked once they were alone.

"That girl that Sid mentioned, Aubrey. She's Steveanna." Gerald exacerbated.

Peter remained unconvinced, "How do you know that?"

"I talked to Helga after we left Sid's apartment. She gave me her address and before I left she informed me that her name was Steveanna _Aubrey_ Underwood. How many people with that name could there possibly be running around in Hillwood?"

"If this _is_ her…why the hell would she be hitting Reynolds for money? Blackmail no less."

"Why the hell indeed."

* * *

A/N: This is it guys! Next chapter, everything gets blown wide open. Holy wow...I can't believe we've actually reached the end. Two more chapters.


	25. John the Revelator: Pt 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold.

Summary: A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

**A/N:** Alright then, well this was _supposed_ to be one single chapter, but it ended up being so huge that I felt I needed to split it into two posts. Sorry I veered from reported schedule! My bad! Mostly because **MRobitussin** gave me the idea to do an Uncle Gerald/Sender story time. Incentivize that reviewer! Also I didn't feel like being _that _evil as to saddle you guys with one single monstrosity of a chapter. Part 2 will be posted probably by Sunday night, if not then then definitely by next Friday. If I wasn't still smoothing over the end part (which I just can't seem to be happy with) I would have thrown them up together. Anyway, with out further ado...Part 1!

* * *

**John the Revelator: Pt. 1**

"They found our city under the water,

Got to get my hands on something new,

You don't want to be without this,

Something isn't adding up,

Decide my past,

Define my life,

Don't ask questions,

'Cause I don't know why." -The Strokes (Tap Out)

* * *

"So how are we going to approach this?" Gerald asked. He and Peter were seated in the detective's office. So much for Gerald calling it a night.

"Monday, were going to subpoena bank records from both Reynolds and Underwood…see if there is any pattern to it or if it was a onetime thing. I don't want to bring her in just yet. If she really _is_ blackmailing him over something, it could spook her and I don't want either one of them to know that they are at the top of the list."

Gerald nodded, "I'll run a background on her. See if there is anything that we could possibly pick her up on just to hold her. Outstanding warrant or something. Who knows if Reynolds may have said something to _her_ by now."

"That's an excellent idea, Johanssen."

* * *

Going over to Brian's house had seemed straight forward enough. Pizza, soda and a thrilling movie about a serial killer who apparently _vacuumed_ his crime scenes. How strange. No, the issue at hand didn't arise because there was a problem with any combination of those things, no, no, the issue at large was that Helga couldn't seem to keep her _eyes_ on the screen. Somehow, those rebellious blue peepers kept wondering over to her blonde headed host sitting at the opposite end of the couch. Sometimes it'd be a corner glance, several times she'd found herself cocking her whole head at him, unabashedly raking her eyes over his physique like he was gardening soil. Of course, he seemed not to notice at all, and when he _did_ by chance glance her way she was always quicker to nonchalantly look away.

He was definitely a well built specimen…if the peep show he'd flashed in the name of a tattoo—which she'd decided was _incredibly_ _hot_—was anything to go off of. He looked like the type of guy who _probably_ worked out, but then again...maybe not. He wasn't overly cut; just physical…like maybe he got it from throwing those tennis balls and playing with Lou dog in the park.

God almighty that shirt was just...just _made_ for him too.

_Go ahead, admit it, this guy used to bug the crap out of you and now...now he's the Jesus of cool, and you are way attracted. You know, he probably__** is**__ a good lay too—ah __**crap.**_

Yeah, her eyes weren't quick enough _that_ time. Traitors. She was caught. His blue orbs grabbed hers like a vice grip and held them while a smirk drew up on his lips. "Is something bothering you?" He finally asked.

_You…_ Helga felt herself swallow. Whether she _liked_ it or not, she'd been _bothered_ ever since his little nerd rant. When words failed to leave her tongue his eyebrow arched a fraction of an inch and she bit her lip.

_Kiss him. Do it…something tells me he won't have a problem with it._

_-Yeah...__**right**_

_-He practically called you a MILF earlier. How dense __**are**__ you?_

What good, exactly, was the mind if the body decided to act on its own accord before getting permission first? And that's exactly what happened. Before she'd even _okayed_ it, she found herself sliding across the cushions, bringing her hand up to cup his mildly surprised face and pulling him into a lip lock. When she went to pull away he caught her, preventing her from moving, prolonging their connection for just a moment longer before pulling away, "Ah, I see. My lips are bothering you." He smiled, "Does this mean you're dating now?"

Helga's eyes thinned slightly, but a mischievous smirk enveloped her lips, "I've had a long week and I'm in the mood to be a bit of a tire kicker if you catch my drift."

"I do."

"Good. Now shut up and let me test drive your mouth."

* * *

The problem with test driving how good of a kisser he was was that it turned into a test drive of...everything else. Dear _God_, she really hated her spontaneity sometimes. It was a terrible habit, and one that had certainly gotten her into a position that night...or several. It was true, much like Alice, Helga stumbled from one nightmarish situation to the next, but unlike innocent little Alice, Helga always seemed to stumble into a different man's bed too. And she'd stumbled right off that couch, down those stairs and straight into Brian's plush king sized without a problem.

Stupid libido. Stupid lust.

But problem there _was_, as she was pretty sure she'd just _screwed_ their budding friendship...and _no_, the pun wasn't lost on her either. _Crimeny_. Last week she'd told him that she wasn't interested in dating him, which _was_ true, and then this week she just…hops in the sack with him. Talk about mixed signals…for him _and_ her. The worst part, however, was that something happened for her, something she was afraid she might not be able to just take back, ignore and walk away from.

"That was…a lot more fun than the movie," Brian murmured against the side of her head, kissing her softly. Helga barely smiled, more caught up in her head than with anything he'd said. He wasn't keen to leave it alone either, immediately sensing her inner turmoil, "What's the matter?"

Helga quietly groaned, unwinding her limbs from his body and proceeding to prop herself up on her elbow, letting her head rest in her palm. Damage control time. The sooner the better, right? "What's the matter? How about this was a stupid, ill thought out idea for starters."

"What? Why?" Brian urgently said, immediately turning onto his side, facing her with a frown and a scrunched brow at which Helga could only look upon disparagingly. "You don't think this was all I was after…do you?" He whispered. Call her crazy but she actually thought he looked hurt.

"No, nothing like—"

"-It wasn't."

"-Right. _I_ came onto _you._"

"True...but I have wanted to strip you down since the park though."

Helga was a little surprised by that, and she was sure her face gave it away because his eyes immediately softened with apology. "Sorry…" His voice feather quite.

"It's going to get really awkward between us now." Helga looked off, shaking her head. "And I'm in such a weird time in my life that having you around as a little slice of normalcy has been a breath of fresh air for me."

Brian gently smiled, quite pleased with that last part. Regardless, he appeared completely unfazed by her fear of awkwardness, and she could only imagine _why_. "Go on a date with me." His hand lifted and his fingers delicately wove through her hair. "A _real_ one."

Helga laughed sardonically, "_Wow_. And that's an even worse idea."

"Why?"

Her eyes shot back to his, "Because," She exhaled, "Getting involved with someone is the _last_ thing I need to be doing right now, especially somebody I've only been hanging around with for a _hot minute_. As if sleeping with you weren't _bad_ enough," She finished reproachfully.

"Hey, sex happens. That's_ life. _At least were not _complete_ strangers," Brian defended. Helga said nothing, instead running her free hand through her bed hair, looking away again. Brian continued looking at her for a moment more before letting go of the air in his lungs and allowing his head to droop. "Look, I'm trying to be sorry about...doing this with you, but...I _can't_. The truth is, I had such an…_amazing_ connection with you tonight that I'm _glad_ you came on to me," He confessed, and Helga felt her eyes creeping to their corners to catch the slightest glimpse of him, "I think maybe…I'm hoping that you felt that too and that's why you're panicking...because you _don't_ think I did," He finished softly.

She _had!_ She _had_ felt something. And that was _precisely_ the problem. She could blame her spontaneity and healthy sex drive all she wanted, but it didn't change the fact that she _liked_ this guy, and part of what she'd liked about him so much was that he'd felt comfortable to her, familiar, he'd possessed that certain brand of warmth, that glowing aura of amber energy that Arnold used to positively radiate with when they were _together_.

Its sudden resurfacing in Brian had been downright greedy, demanding, forcefully forbidding her from holding anything back with him, and she hadn't, too powerless to ignore it even if she'd wanted to. She'd taken it much further though, squeezing every drop of his electric dayglo out onto the bed sheets and basking from head to toe in the rich, honey sweet radiation that kissed her soul. She hadn't given herself over to a single man so thoroughly, so unguarded than she had that night.

Not since Arnold_._

She hadn't had sex with Brian, no...she'd _made love_ to him, and she had no idea how she was supposed to feel about it. Thinking about it was putting her stomach in knots, and she couldn't bear to look at him, but she couldn't bear _not_ to look at him either.

"I think that...it's possible for two people to click in one random, unexpected night." Her lover began scratching the back of his head slowly. Once again, Helga couldn't open her mouth, couldn't find a simple collection of letters to string together a few words. Brian sighed, disappointment dulling his eyes just enough to make her heart sink, "Or…maybe I'm wrong abou-"

It was a split second decision that she didn't even remember making, but the next thing she knew she'd attached herself to him, her mouth hungrily catching his words with a long kiss. "No, you aren't wrong," She finally breathed onto his lips. Without any further hesitation, they quickly wound around one another like hot coils, melding together under the magnetism of whatever was pulling them together. "I _do_ like you…" She told him.

"I think it's _pretty obvious_ that I like you too," He whispered, humming with desire.

"And I _did_ feel something tonight. I just don't know what to _do_ with it." She _wanted_ to tell him that emotionally, she was covered with so much scar tissue that she wasn't sure that she'd _ever_ be able to contribute anything more to a relationship than the physical portion. Then again, it wasn't as if she'd ever _tried_ or anything, too hung up on Arnold and her quest to drown out the short comings of her life to want anything more than detached, meaningless flings. "It's just that-"

His mouth closed over hers and he pushed her back, moving on top of her before breaking off the kiss. "I'll be anything but a play toy," He said breathlessly into her ear. "You pick. You already know where I'm interested in taking us." Those pillow soft lips began trailing down the side of her neck and it made her moan softly. All she knew was that she wanted to hold on to the moment, to him, to that amber dayglo for as long as possible.

It was then, through the mist forming in her mind, that she realized what a hostage to her emotions she really was, and the sad fact was they'd left her with no other choices but the one right in from on her face. She finally nodded. "I want more of this," She breathed…or begged, she wasn't entirely sure which, but she arched her hips into him for good measure.

"Me too." His hand trailed down her side, her hip, her slender leg, hooking it behind her knee. "Now...no more talking." With one simple maneuver, he leaned forward and pushed himself inside of her.

"Mmm..." Her mind blanked completely in the bliss of him filling her, nodding when his mouth came up to reclaim hers, "No more talking."

* * *

Helga arrived home that night _much_ later than expected and _thoroughly_ spent no less. As she leaned against her vehicle, sucking down a couple of cigarettes, she couldn't help but focus on how much her body ached with that delicious brand of soreness. It had been a long while since she'd been worked over that well, and it was certainly worth the stupid grin on her face. The only part of that whole equation that she was struggling with was the part where she wasn't even _remotely_ sated by their evening of ruckus love making. She found herself just wanting him even more. She wanted to keep wringing him out, to keep _getting_ wrung out by him.

_Damn, he's Pataki catnip too. Ah, I remember when you and Arnold used have that unquenchable thirst for one anoth—_

_-Put a sock in it. _Helga flicked her cigarette butt into the snow, mentally making a note to pick it up later as she wandered inside.

_Sheesh, I was just making an observation is all…I was just saying...maybe you could be...you know, **happy** with this.  
_

She was surprised to see a light still on in the living room, and even more surprised to see Olga curled up on the couch with the television still murmuring at such a late hour. She was startled awake when Helga came padding into the room. "Oh, hey..." She groggily greeted, sitting up against the cushions.

"Hey. What are you still doing up?"

"I fell asleep watching a movie. Are you just getting in?" Olga twisted her watch around on her wrist, eyes widening at the hour.

"Uh-huh." Helga lifted a brow suspiciously and crossed her arms. "Were you...waiting up for me?"

Realizing she was caught, Olga fessed up with a nod, "I hope you aren't mad."

Helga wasn't mad, a little caught off guard but not mad. "Of course not," She assured and took a seat next to her sister. "You really didn't have to, you know."

Olga only shrugged, "It's the worry-wort mother in me." She flashed a warm smile. "How was your night?"

"Great..." Helga nodded. "Pretty quiet evening."

_HA! Quiet evening...you kill me...and I am you so..._

"Mom called right after you left. She wanted to talk to you."

Helga had to suppress an eye roll and groan at that. "What did she want?" She dared to ask.

"She wanted to tell you that...if you want your apartment back to let her know and she'll remove the current residents." Olga didn't appear very keen on the idea, as much as she attempted to show otherwise. Helga couldn't blame her. It was a little off the wall, and it made her wonder what Bob's roll in it was.

"Nah." Helga shook her head, "I was tired of that place. I was planning on finding something new whenever I left anyway...and I'm not ready to leave yet."

"I'm not ready for you to go anywhere either."

Helga tilted her head to look at Olga. The older woman shrugged, "Worry-wort mother," She replied with a smile.

"I wonder why she's being so...nice," Helga pondered aloud.

"I think she's just trying to be helpful. She does believe that you've turned over a new leaf," Olga explained.

"Hmm. She did pull Dad off my back when I went and got Sender's stuff."

"That's another thing. Do you think you could try to bite your tongue with him? Trust me, I get your animosity, but it always blows back on me."

Helga's eyes became sympathetic, "Sorry," She softly replied. "And I have no plans of talking to him again, so...no worries on that."

Olga sighed, "Don't you think this family has been fractured enough?"

"It's not like we've had too many kind words for one another anyway. Can we please leave it at that?"

Olga didn't want to, but she agreed to drop it...and change the subject. "I've finished reading that notebook you gave me."

Helga's brows rose up her forehead. Honestly, she'd completely forgotten about that. "Yeah?" She nodded.

"And out of all the shocking things you wrote, that I had no idea about, the thing that struck me most was the progression of it."

"The...progression?"

"The first part of it was bitter and bent out of shape, and then you got melancholy, then uncomfortably complacent towards the end. I feel like you've sort of become…okay with things." Olga grinned, "And the things you wrote about Sender were just…absolutely touching."

Helga cracked a small smile, "Sounds like I am dying, huh?" She shrugged and then looked down at her lap, "Though I suppose that it has been. A death of an obsession…a death of a former self."

Olga nodded, "I suppose it has."

"There isn't anything I'm...going at wrong...to you?"

"No. I think you've done a great job at answering your own questions and solving your own problems." Olga looked at her lovingly, "And you look...happy these days...minus the Sender episode."

Helga chortled, "I'm learning what being happy feels like again. It's kind of…addicting. I kind of like it."

The older blonde laughed too and rolled her eyes at her sister's pun, reaching out and giving her hand a squeeze. "I can't tell you enough how proud I am of you."

"I know." Helga pushed back into the cushions, stretching out her stiffening muscles in the silence that fell over them, "Did little miss give you any trouble tonight?" She asked after a minute.

Olga shook her head, "Never does, as usual. She's in your bed. She came down stairs about two hours ago and made a bee line for your room. I didn't see a point in putting her back in her own either."

Helga shook her head while letting a tired sigh leave her lips, "She does not trust me _at all_ right now. She's determined to make sure that I _am_ coming home at night, no matter how many times I promise her that I will."

"She'll re-bond with you. Just give it some time. She may only be six, but that doesn't mean she isn't working through her own little things too. Don't forget that."

"I know. It takes time," The younger blonde agreed and yawned, "I'm exhausted and I still need to grab a shower." She stood up. Olga switched off the television, tidying the cushions as she removed her person from the couch as well.

"I'm up well past my hour," Olga yawned herself. Helga walked off to the hallway, but stopped and turned back around.

"Hey, Olga, let me ask you something."

"Mmhm," Her sister nodded and crossed her arms.

"Do you think that…if you'd never met Grant, you would have met somebody else and been just as happy with them?"

"Well," Olga inhaled and exhaled deeply, "I'd like to think that he's my soul mate, but I also respect the idea that, perhaps love gives everyone blinders to feel like way." She smiled, "I have a client whose wife died of breast cancer when they were 32. He's 65 now and has been happily re-married for 15 years. Why do you ask?"

Helga shook her head, "No reason," She smiled.

* * *

**Sunday – Afternoon**

She didn't know what it was about seeing his car parked on the curb that made the most unpleasant feeling churn around in her stomach. Maybe it was because she never knew what to expect from him, or maybe she dreaded potential news from him, or maybe it was because she still wasn't all that fond of him, she didn't know. She just knew that she didn't like it. She'd been gone for about an hour, perhaps a little longer and this is what she had to come back to.

She groaned and popped the hatch and collected all of her bags from the store, trudging inside with in a newly unpleasant mood. Concerning enough, she didn't see him anywhere, dropping everything in the kitchen and going on the hunt, finding Olga and Grant in the living room as if nothing was wrong.

"Where's he at?" Helga asked.

"The room above with Sender," Olga replied.

Helga rolled her eyes, and headed off to where she'd been directed to, climbing up the flight of stairs, coming to a screeching stop at the top. Gerald was stretched out in Grant's old recliner with Sender squeezed in beside him, both flipping through a thick, glossy book tiled with pictures and who knows what else.

"What is that?" Sender pointed at the folded square of notebook paper shoved into the clear pocket in front of a picture of Gerald and Arnold.

The cop chuckled, digging out the paper, "That is _the list_."

"Of what?"

"The list for a kids perfect Saturday." He unfolded the worn item, "Watch every cartoon from 6:00a.m. till Dance Crazy, while eating three bowls of sugar chunk cereal, ride your bike down the steepest hill in the neighborhood, play catch with every kid in the park, and go to the movies and sit through it three times!"

Sender's eyes widened, "Whoa. Did you do all that when you were a kid?"

"No," Gerald laughed, "But once after school, your Dad came waving it around saying that he was going to do it all. I told him that he was tempting the fates but he wouldn't listen."

"So _he_ did it all."

"Not exactly. It turned into a real rotten day for him, according to what he told me. He woke up late, ran out of cereal, couldn't watch cartoons, got his baseball stolen, his bike stuck in fresh tar and then the theatre closed for technical difficulties."

"Oh," Sender sighed, "That is _a lot_ to do. Where's this from?" She pointed to another picture of Arnold, Gerald, Sid, Stinky and Harold all making faces with a backdrop that was clearly Arnold's child hood room.

"That is from a sleep over. Your Dad told one righteous urban legend that got us into a heap of an adventure that night."

At that, Sender was enthralled, "Oh! What happened?"

"Well, it started with the story of the headless cabbie, the horrible ghost lady, which as legend had it…or your Dad, could still be heard and seen roaming around city park at night looking for her demon Scottie dog. But see on that particular night we all decided to go for some ice cream and we had to cut through the park to get to where we were going and Harold was all like, 'I'm not cutting through the park and I was like, 'Harold, it's the fastest way'."

"So, did you guys go?"

"Of course we went. So were like walking along, and its foggy and creepy and Sid is trying to punk Harold and then we hear barking…and then…suddenly…this Scottie dog comes running out of nowhere, which, as Sid pointed out _was_ a real coincidence, but Stinky insisted that we take it with us and your Dad is just like, 'it's cool man'."

By now Sender was really leaning in, completely absorbed in the tale.

"We're walking some more and then we hear a rattle on the cobble stone getting louder and louder and—"

"-The headless cabbie?!"

"No." Gerald eyeballed around dramatically, "Eugene…" He nodded at her.

Sender's little brow popped upwards, "Who's Eugene?"

"Ah…this danger prone kid that we once knew. He was tap dancing on the cobble stones for practice…don't ask." He waved it off.

"In the early evening?" Sender skeptically asked.

At that Gerald couldn't help but tilt his head at her in amazement, "You know that's _exactly_ what I said. Anyway," He cleared his throat, "So Harold's like 'ahhh, I've had enough, I want some ice cream,' and your Dad's like, 'There's the tunnel were almost there,' and Eugene is like, 'Tell me the story of the Headless Cabbie,' but then we get to the end of the tunnel and out of the shadows comes…the man with the golden hook! And were all like 'ahhh!' and we run away 'cause this guy is going to kill us but then your Dad stops and says, 'Guys nobody is chasing us!' but then Stinky points up to a tree branch and we see…the cabbie's red scarf!"

"Oh no…"

"Your Dad is like, 'Cut it out, it's just some old scarf, there's nothing weird about it. Eugene would you stop that clogging?' but Eugene is like, 'I'm not clogging'," Gerald changed his voice for each person, "And then the Scottie dog _jumps_ out of Stinky's arms and runs away because from out of the thick fog comes…the headless cabbie and the crazy lady!" He announced dramatically.

Sender had turned white, "I'm never going in the park _again_."

Gerald laughed, "Only at night."

"He had a go-cart too?" Sender pointed to another picture in the corner.

"Mmhmm. The Dark Avenger. I think he wrecked it or painted it mauve or something."

He continued flipping through the book to some of the later photos he had of them. One particular picture seemed to catch her eye. They were in high school, the month of graduation, sitting in a pizzeria. The four of them, Arnold, Helga, Gerald and Phoebe, crammed into one booth while Phoebe's arm could be seen arched upwards, obviously the one taking the picture. Gerald threw some cheesy sideways peace sign, looking like a bad ass while Arnold had his arm draped over Helga's shoulder, and her arm was wrapped around his waist.

He could still remember hating how absorbed in each other Helga and Arnold were, or 'shoved up each other's butts' as he said then. Especially in the early days, one minute they never spoke, the next they were connected at the hip.

"My Mom has that hat," Sender said after some time. Gerald looked at the old and worn blue garment that covered Arnold's unruly hair. NYPD was written in faded caps across it, barely legible. "I found it in one of her bedside drawers. She told me not to mess with it again."

Helga had stood there the entire time, hearing both stories and Sender's revelation about the hat. They hadn't noticed her and she was content with that, creeping back down the stairs, wiping a couple wayward tears from her eyes as she did.

Sender needed this, she knew it, and she wasn't about to interrupt.

* * *

**Tuesday – Morning**

"Oh, man you wouldn't _believe_ the gold in these bank records," Gerald exclaimed the minute Detective Stockland leaned up against his desk. "Look at this," He shoved a piece of paper in the man's hands and pointed to a highlighted bar, "Five years ago there was a check for $4500 deposited into Underwood's account at Hillwood Bank and Trust written on the account of Reynold's." Gerald handed him another piece of paper, "A year later, $5000. Same account. Then it just stops until…" He passed him yet another piece of highlighted paper, "The check that Janna talked about for $9000 which was written out of Reynolds' personal expense account at his Father's firm."

"She is definitely bleeding him for _something_," Peter mused at the papers, "Usually with amounts this high, it means one thing. Hush money."

"You put a tail on her yet?"

Peter nodded, "She's done nothing that makes me think we've roused suspicion." The detective tossed the papers onto the desk, "I'm torn between keeping a low profile or ruffling her feathers to see if she makes a move."

"I've got one even better my man," He slapped another piece of paper in Peter's hands, "Here's your arrest warrant for a misdemeanor drug possession. She stopped showing up for community service 6 months ago."

"And they haven't picked her up _yet_?" Peter was astonished.

"Courts are clogged. Especially for small time criminal cases like that. With a little…_help_ we could pop her for 60 days in jail and have plenty of time to grill her."

Peter smiled, "I'll make some phone calls."

* * *

**Wednesday – Noon**

"You know, when I asked you to go on a date, I should have specified that lunch didn't count," Brian said as he and Helga walked away from the quaint little Bistro they'd just finished up lunch at. He'd offered to walk her to her car, an offer she'd accepted. Taking his hand she'd led him off to the back of the parking lot.

Helga smirked up at him, "I guess you'll know better next time." She leaned back against the side of her vehicle, hooking her index finger into the belt loop of his pants and pulled him closer to her. Her free hand ran up his front, grabbing his shirt collar, guiding him down, her lips meeting his soundly while he pressed her into the cold metal. Having him touch her, feeling his body up against hers again had her mind going nuts. "We could always go out tonight," He said between them. "We can have dinner at Le Chez and then catch some poetry at the coffee shop."

"That sounds…like a great night, _but_ I've already promised the munchkin that we'd make apple spice cupcakes tonight."

Brian pulled away, puckering his lip briefly and then smiled, "Mmm. That's a tasty excuse. Can't compete with a little girl and her cupcakes."

Helga chuckled, "Damn straight. But I assure you, I'll be in touch for a reschedule." She kissed him again and he purred.

"You better." Again, his mouth was hot and avid against her own, but as they say, idle hands are the devils play things, and his were less than content with hanging out around her at her waist, falling till they reached the tip of her dress and met the warm spark of her thigh. It was freezing out, with snow on the ground and ice on the wet sidewalk, but she had never felt hotter to him. Their bubble was a blazing inferno. "I'm thinking…" That hand snaked up the front of her dress, quickly meeting the only other piece of fabric keeping him from her, "We crawl into your sled and have a little…dessert."

Her eyes nearly rolled, breath hitching, feeling those digits brush across her wonder area, "In broad day light?" She gasped. Those fingers wormed there way past her panties and when it finally clicked in her mind that they were still in a parking lot, she had to practically force herself to reach out and stop him. Boy was he brazen, she'd give him that, and that was coming from a chick who had an indecent exposure arrest on her rap sheet.

"Your windows look adequately tinted and I know these have...sizable back seats."

"And if I say no?"

Brian stopped, immediately withdrawing his hand and placing it inside of his coat pocket. "You're right." He smiled apologetically, taking a step back, and placing his other hand inside his coat pocket too, "I got carried away. Sorry."

Sorry? She wasn't sorry. She wasn't sorry _at all_. The craving for him to be all over her had been absolutely gnawing a hole in her insides since Friday. The only thing she was sorry about was being in a parking lot in the middle of the day. So help her, the reasonable adult half of her brain was trying to keep it together, to keep her person out of the grips of her own animalistic urges, but Lord knows, the more she thought about actually having to go back to work a flustered, dirty minded mess, the more her primal side took over…and won.

She opened up the back door, "Get your ass in there. _Now_."

* * *

"Is this it?" Gerald peered out the window at a seedy looking bar. It had no windows and hundreds of band fliers covering the door and walls, making a scaly collage of florescent pink, green and yellow that was peppered with white and black.

"Yep," Peter stepped out of the car and Gerald mimicked. The detective whisked open the door and the men stepped into a dank smelling, dimly lit music bar and reeked of spilt beer and sweat. A scattered amount of equally nefarious patrons lined the bar stools like breathing ornaments, casting shady eyes towards the cleanly dressed intruders. The dreadlocked clad maiden behind the bar wasn't who they were looking for, but Gerald quickly noticed a slender individual leaning against the back wall, wearing a beanie and chatting it up with the joint's sound guy. He pointed, Peter nodded and they calmly walked over to her.

"Aubrey Underwood?" Peter asked.

The girl lolled her head at them, cocking her eyebrows with attitude, "Yeah? What do you want?" She spat.

"My names Detective Stockland, this is Officer Johanssen," He flashed his badge quickly before going for his cuffs. "You are under arrest for failure to comply with your court ordered community service."

"Hey what the hel—" Peter turned her around and shoved her against the wall, snapping on a pair of metal bracelets. "This is bullshit!"

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney…"

* * *

**Thursday – Night**

"Is that all you got? You hit like a Goddamn girl!" The brunette guy stumbled away from the bar stool, spitting blood onto the floor and flashing a ruby toothed smile which served only to insure that the same fist landed on his jaw for a second time. He lurched backwards, slumping over onto the bar sideways, "That's more like it," He laughed madly, "Come on, hit me again. Put me out of my misery!" He lunged at his attacker, and the guy slugged him a third time.

"Hey!" A very authoritative voice blasted through the room, "Break it up!"

The next thing the brunette knew a pair of hands were gripping around his arms and his bloody, beaten face went smacking against the bar, a set of cold steely bracelets coming to snap around his wrists while he was introduced to Ms. Miranda Rights. They were sure to meet up sooner than later, "I just…I didn't mean for it to happen! She wouldn't let me…she wouldn't let me!" He began crying over the officer's recital.

"Come on," The cop dragged him away from the counter and out into the cold night and pushed him into the back seat of his squad car. As he shut the door his partner came walking out of the watering hole, tucking a notepad back into his breast pocket.

"Rowdy, brawling drunk. Bar tender cut him off and he started trying to pick fights with everybody," He said and they both slid into the car.

Their passenger took his foot and kicked the cage as hard as he could, "Take me to the precinct and get me Johanssen…Gerald Johanssen and Peter Stockland! I need to…talk to them right now!" He yelled.

"Shut up!"

"I didn't…I didn't…I didn't mean to! They're going to find out," He began coughing miserably.

"Jeez, some guys just can't handle their liquor."

The ride was short, but noisy and the two officers couldn't wait to dispose of that loud mouth as quickly as possible. That didn't stop the loud mouth from being as unruly as possible as they dragged him through the precinct for booking.

"I want to talk to Johanssen!" He yelled at the top of his lungs and let his legs buckle so his captors were forced to physically drag him, "Peter Stockland! You're going to _care_—" He violently yanked his body to the side, "—what I have to say to you!"

"What the hell is all the commotion?!" On the other side of the precinct, Peter and Gerald had stuck their heads out of his office, the detective burning hot with annoyance, every bit of it evaporating the minute he laid eyes on the bloody, disheveled, bloody mess that two of his subordinates were dragging in. "Holy—"

"Reynolds…" Gerald said in disbelief.

"You need…to _hear_ what I have to say! I know…what _happened!_" Casey shouted at them.

"Hey, hey, _hey_!" Peter was already blazing a trail towards the commotion, "You two, get him in interview room one. _Now_!" He barked.

"What in the hell just happened," Gerald walked up to Peter and whispered.

"Your guess is as good as mine. This is the last thing I expected today." The duo stalked off to the interview room were Casey was hunched over the table, still cuffed, with bloody spit drooling down off of his chin, smearing all over the table like paint.

"You want to tell us what that was all about man?" Gerald said, closing the door behind them. Casey looked up as much as his swollen eyes were allowing him to before his face contorted into a grimace, "She wouldn't let me save him," He choked in a whisper.

"Save who, Casey?" Peter asked softly.

The brunette shook his sobs, "I was just so mad. I didn't mean to. But it was her, she wouldn't…she wanted to watch. She wanted to see…she wanted to see." Sniffing, he gulped down some air. "I can't do this anymore. I'm tired living with this…with _her_. I know you've been following me."

"Who couldn't you save Casey?"

The man paused and cocked his head at the detective, face shiny with moisture, dyed red and purple from blood and bruises with a brow pulled down as tight as a hatch in a storm. "Arnold," They almost didn't hear him he said it so softly, "Aubrey wouldn't let me."


	26. John the Revelator: Pt 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold.

Summary: A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

**A/N: **Part 2! There will officially be at least one more chapter that was planned. Is you all should want an epilog, then I do have something in mind. However, enjoy!

* * *

**John the Revelator: Pt. 2**

"Well, who's that shouting?

John the Revelator,

All he ever gives us is pain,

Well, who's that shouting?

John the Revelator,

He should bow his head in shame." –Depeche Mode (John the Revelator)

* * *

"I've left you 3 messages in the past 2 days. Do I need to remind you as to _why_ you are coming to bail me out?" Aubrey hissed hotly into the black receiver. "Are we still having these conversations Casey? You better get your ass down here. I'm losing patients," She finished on an ominous note and draped the phone back on its steel cradle.

"I hate when I'm trying to get a hold of somebody and keep getting their voicemails." Aubrey spun around and saw Peter leaning up against the concrete wall with ease, "Especially when I'm trying to black mail them. So very irritating." An alerting little series of beeps began chirping from his pocket and he coolly removed a sharp looking phone from its depths, looking upon the screen in faux surprise, "Oh I know this number. It's the outbound line for holding."

Peter turned the phone to her and jiggled it. Aubrey swallowed and took a step backwards, "Mr. Reynolds isn't going to be coming for you. In fact he's quite detained himself, and he's got a very…interesting…story to tell. And you know what the best part is? You're in it."

* * *

"You sobered up man?" Gerald asked as he re-entered interview room one nearly two hours later. His detainee sluggishly picked his swollen head up off the desk, knocking away the sleep with a limp nod. "Brought you some coffee." He sat the cup down on the table and slid it to him.

Casey happily took the beverage, popping the top and taking a few sips.

In the time being, Gerald planted himself in the chair across from him. "You want to talk about what you said earlier?"

His detainee sat the cup down, licking his lips a few times before sighing, "I'll tell you everything, but you've got to promise me something first."

Gerald nodded, "What?"

"Promise me that _she_ won't get away Scott free on this."

"Well that depends on what you have to tell me, but I'll do my best."

Casey nodded, straightening himself in his chair, taking a deep calming breath. "I shot Arnold Shortman by accident…"

* * *

_It had been a little over an hour since Helga had stormed out of their house to go God knows where after one of their more explosive fights. She'd actually threatened to leave him, and if he hadn't been so mad he would have laughed at how preposterous it was. She wasn't going anywhere too far; he'd make sure of it. Especially as long as she was carrying __**his **__child. It was __**his**__ and his __**only**__ at the moment seeing as she still steadfastly denied its existence. Just thinking about it was winding his heart strings into deeper tangles. How he wasn't doing a very good job of protecting it from her, or protecting her from herself. His hands were running through his wild hair, a strangled groan clawing out of his dry throat as he thought more and more about how he shouldn't have let her stalk out into the night._

_Shouldn't have yelled 'if you want to leave there's the door.' Shouldn't have let her push his buttons in the way that she so expertly knew how to do._

_His heart really knotted when he saw that she'd left her phone on the kitchen counter. He had no way of getting a hold of her, no way of finding her, and she had __**really**__ left, taken her keys, gotten in her car and __**left**__. _

_God knows __**where**__ she could have gone. Oh, it was setting him on pins and needles while he paced around the living room, fighting to prevent everything bad in the world from zipping down the highways of his mind, but failing. At that point, he was regretting waiting on their new apartment. He should have just bit the bullet and gotten the one bedroom. Maybe if he had he wouldn't be wandering around in a worried wreck not knowing where she could be. _

_Somehow, over the hustle and bustle of his maddening thoughts, he heard the back door open, and for a brief moment he had the ficklest of hope that it could be her. A hope that evaporated as quickly as it had bloomed. The blood in his chest hardened to stone when he saw Casey step inside, tailed by Aubrey. _

"_You've got some nerve coming into my house, do you know that?" Arnold growled furiously. _

_Casey tossed him a snide eye roll, "Chill-axe __**dude**__, I'm just returning this." He reached into the back of his pants and removed a black pistol from his waist band. _

"_Good for you. Sit it on the counter and get out of here before I embarrass you in front of your girlfriend and remove you myself." _

_Casey scowled for a moment, analyzing the situation. Arnold continued to glower pointedly, but it did nothing to curb the dark headed guy's new found interest. In realizing the opportunity he had, he stepped down into the living room, "You know I really don't get what your problem is with me. I've never done __**shit**__ to you and yet you always seem to want to kick my ass."_

"_He's just a fucking stiff is all he is," Aubrey chimed in from where she stood by the door._

_Arnold's glare bounced to her before slowly sliding back onto the brunette standing a few feet in front of him, "I'm __**not**__ going to say it again." He balled his hands into fists, "Leave."_

"_So I guess you must've pissed Helga off pretty bad huh? I saw her leave earlier." Casey smirked, "You know, I've got to agree with Madison here. You two just need to cut each other loose. Stop fighting the inevitable." He laughed, "Maybe she's a little bias seeing as she's just __**dying**__ to get into your goodie basket. I'm sure Pep and Seth wouldn't mind giving your precious little girlfriend a tap either."_

_Arnold was seething; the hatred just rolling off of him in great waves of fury, tingeing his vision red as he walked up on Casey, staring him down with stone black eyes. "You know what I think, Casey? I think you're a loud mouth, who needs to learn to shut it once in awhile. But I think you are because it buries all of your insecurities. You have well off parents, so you buy all of your friends and your girlfriends, but yet, you __**still**__ aren't the life of the party and you __**still**__ seem to only end up with the campus sluts—"_

"_-Are you serious?" Aubrey gawked._

"_Shut up." Arnold barked. _"_-because quite honestly, they're probably the only ones that __**don't**__ see through your bullshit hard ass routine. You better enjoy it while you can, because you're peaking buddy. In 10 years it's just going to be pathetic." Casey's jaw flexed, eye's narrowing at the blonde. "I bet you're the baby of your family aren't you? Never got enough attention, but always the disappointment? Look at you, how could you not be. You are __**exactly**__ what I'm trying to get us away from, because you're wasting yourself for nothing. That's not me...and it won't be her either."_

_Casey closed his eyes, exhaling a grin that he had to all but force. "I thought you were supposed to be a nice guy." He re-opened his eyes._

"_You should know by now that I'm done being nice, especially to guys like you." _

_"You through?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Good. My turn. I fucked Helga."_

* * *

"You haven't got shit and you know it. That's why you're bothering _me,_" Aubrey sneered across the interview table at Peter.

The detective nodded, crossing his arms and peering pointedly at her, "What did Mr. Reynolds mean when he said that you wouldn't let him save Mr. Shortman? That you 'wanted to see'?"

The girl scoffed and pushed away from the table, "I don't know. You tell me."

"My partner is right down the hall with him now and he's spilling his guts. You see we know all about the black mail. The…thousands of dollars you've been extorting out of him over the years." Peter brought his index finger up to his lips and tapped it, "Here's what I think. I think that maybe it was _you_ who pulled the trigger while _he_ watched. And you've spent the last 7 years holding him hostage. Threatening to frame him. What is it that you have? A bloody finger print or…"

Aubrey churlishly smiled and leaned forward, "Fuck you."

Peter was unfazed, hearing far worse in his days on the job. He slid a folder in front of himself and flicked it open, "You've always had some issues with men haven't you?" He shifted his eyes up to her, "It started as a child didn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do. When your Father up and abandoned you and your Mother. You were how old? 6? That had to be traumatic."

The slender girl snorted, rolling her eyes as she cocked back in the chair, "You a shrink now? You going to psychoanalyze my 'daddy' issues?"

"You know, it's a pattern that I've spotted in your file here…there's just an awful lot of assault charges on men in here," He began flipping through, "Restraining orders…you set one guys bed on fire? That's dramatic. Now, what I'm wondering though is…what was it about Arnold that you hated so much?" Peter finished flipping through the file and closed it, "Was there something about him that reminded you of your Father? Or did you hate how loyal he was? Did you hate how he actually cared about what happened to Helga?"

"I don't have anything to say to you."

"Okay," Peter sighed and stood up, "But you want to know an interesting thing about juries? They tend to take the word of the person with the clean record over the one with the drug felonies. Let's hope Mr. Reynolds has something good to say about you."

* * *

_The lightest of feather could have floated to the floor and it would have sounded like a building collapsing. It was as if the air had been sucked right out of the room, and right out of Arnold's lungs. He was clenching his fits so tightly that he was endanger of drawing blood, and he was sure he'd bleed ice. "In my bed...when she was over for a party one night. It's amazing what shot after shot of whiskey does huh? A little beer pong." Casey chuckled, "She was alright for a drunk girl...though she did keep calling me you. That was a little annoying, but she __**was**__ trashed. Yeah, I laid my hands on her, I got all up in her and fucking wrecked it." He winked and a devilish smirk ran over his lips, "Oh, have I said too much? Am I enough of a loud mouth Arnold? Is this...disappointing?"_

_"You son of a bitch." Arnold reached out and harshly grabbed a handful of Casey's shirt, "You sick son of a bitch."_

_In a flash, Casey stuck the barrel of the gun in Arnold's gut. "Don't...touch me," He threatened, but Arnold refused to let him go, tightening his grip and reaching down and taking a hold of the steel barrel in defiance_.

_"Are you going to shoot me with my own gun Casey?" Arnold was so angry that it took all he had to try and think straight and even those weren't the sanest. "Big man, yeah?" He hissed, doing all he could to keep a level voice. Inside he was struggling not to shatter to pieces, not break into uncontrollable sobs, not to obliterate this guy._

_"We share more experiences than we thought...imagine that," Casey slowly mocked, whisper quiet. In a blink, his world spun around, breath leaving his lungs in a choked surprise when his person unexpectedly went hurdling backwards off a set of furious palms._

_"Don't touch him!"_

_Casey looked up and saw Arnold's candy green eyes bearing down on him, the force of his flexed hands fisting his shirt again and slinging him backwards with an unimaginable amount of vigor. He felt the raw tug of gravity attempting to tip him backward as he erratically stumbled, trying to right himself with the flail of his arms, and it was then, when his heel came into contact with that step that he knew that there was no hope of doing so. _

_He collapsed with a thud and a deafening bang that momentarily left him in a blinking underwater stupor. What just happened? His eyes fell down to his body, seeing the rise and fall of his stomach with his rapid breath, to his arm where his hand was still clutched around the stock of the pistol, trembling in slow motion. His orbs shot forward, and it was then that he saw Arnold hunched over clutching his hand to the side of his neck, blood oozing through his fingers and from under his palm before he sank to his knees and yelled.  
_

"_Oh my God." His head was above water now and without a second thought Casey bolted from his place on the floor to Arnold, quickly grabbing him up and putting him on the couch, "Ah…shit, oh my God…I'm…oh Jesus." The blood was getting everywhere, seemingly coming out faster than ever, gushing like a pump. Casey pulled his shirt over his head and balled it up. "Put this on it. Add pressure." He shoved it up under Arnold's hand. _

"_He's going to die." Aubrey stepped forward a bit, looking at Arnold in new found curiosity. _

"_No shit!" Casey shouted, "We need an ambulance!" He dug into his pocket and retrieved his cell phone, his hands shaking so much that he could barely even flip the thing open. But shaky hands wouldn't be what stopped him from making that call. _

"_Don't." Casey immediately turned to Aubrey with a look of horror and absurdity. "He's getting exactly what he deserves." _

"_Are you fucking crazy?!" He bellowed before turning back to his phone. _

"_I said, no!" Aubrey rushed forward, picking up the discarded pistol and pointing it at her boyfriend. _

"_What the hell are you doing?!"_

"_If you save him, you're going to jail, Casey." _

"_I can't let him die!" _

"_That's __**exactly**__ what you're going to do." _

_Arnold began coughing, blood pouring out of his mouth and spilling down his chin. "Don't…don't...let…" He gurgled, "Helga's…I need." _

_Aubrey stepped down into the living room and walked over to stand in front of the dying boy. "You know, I have always been slightly curious as to what it feels like to watch the light go out in somebody's eyes for good." _

"_Helga…she—"_

"_Oh no, darling. She isn't coming for you." She sat down on the coffee table. "Nobody's coming for you."_

"_Aubrey…" Casey begged, "Please just…"_

_She ignored him, continuing to stare at Arnold, "I've always thought you looked a lot like my Father…or well, what I remember of him anyway. He was more of a strawberry blonde I think. But still…it makes it all the more sweeter, hmm?" _

* * *

"She just…sat there and taunted him until…until," Casey couldn't even finish before he began shaking with sobs. "I think she got off on it." He wiped the fluid from his face before looking up at Gerald with pleading eyes, "I didn't…I didn't really do anything to Helga. Pep would have killed me if I had. I just wanted so badly to break Arnold down, and then he pushed me…and that step!"

Gerald sat in stunned silence, the blood in his veins officially iced over. It was true what they say, sometimes the more you know, the more you wished you didn't. While he was happy to finally have a clue of what happened, knowing the horrific way that his best friend, his brother had exited the world, what his last minutes were like would be branded in his mind forever. Emotionally, he suddenly felt as exhausted as Casey looked and as equally hollow, and all he wanted for the man to do is to shut up.

"Afterwards she went upstairs and into their room for awhile. When she came back she had a highlighter of cocaine, a wad of cash and a baggy full of pills. She acted like nothing had happened! I didn't know it till later, but she kept my clothes, all of my clothes with his blood and hid them, telling me if I didn't pay up she'd drop them off with you guys. She's been milking me for years."

"We know about the three checks," Gerald finally regained his voice.

"I've only _written_ her three checks, but I've given her so much more in straight cash and _things_."

Gerald couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't stay in the room with him anymore. "I'll be right back," He hastily said and hurried from the room.

"Gerald, are you okay?" Peter caught him by the arm as he exited the room.

The cop nodded, "I just needed some air."

Peter seemed to buy it and continued, "I was just about to come in there. I played back the camera on that room and watched everything."

"I believe him." Gerald leaned back against the wall, taking in Peter's surprised look. "I think that, us paying him a visit was enough to boil over all of this suppressed stuff that he's been shoving under that hard edge exterior of his. I believe _every word_ of the story he just told me."

"I do too."

* * *

"Mom, this whole back seat thing just isn't working for me," Sender stared unenthusiastically into the confines of her Mother's SUV.

Helga snorted with amusement, flicking her cigarette butt to the pavement. "Well…too bad." She patted her on the head.

The petite girl turned and looked up at Helga, "I'm just letting you know I'm not happy about it." She said before climbing in.

"Dually noted Sweetheart," Helga chuckled, "You better not spill any of that." She pointed to her hot chocolate and shut the door. "So is that boy still giving you trouble? What was his name? Riley?" She asked as she pulled out of the parking lot.

Sender shrugged, "Sometimes he's nice, most of the time he just wants to annoy me as much as possible. He's a strange kid."

"He just doesn't know what to do with himself yet…particularly his feelings."

"Well, I wish he would figure it out and leave me alone," Sender grumbled.

"Eh, just keep ignoring him." Helga's phone chimed and she flipped it open, quickly reading her text before putting it back in the cup holder.

"Who was that? Mr. Brian?"

Her Mother's eyes slid up to the rearview, "How did you know?"

"Because you smiled," Sender replied, tossing her Mom a look that suggested it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You always smile when you look at your phone and its him."

"Oh." Did she?

"Do you like him?"

Helga chuckled, "Of course I like him. I wouldn't hang out with him if I didn't."

"Do you like-like him?"

Helga slowed to a four-way stop and took the opportunity to angle around to look a Sender, who shot her one of those ear to ear smiles before taking a casual sip from her to-go cup. "What if I _maybe_ did?"

Sender thought about it for a moment before grinning, "I could probably be okay with that."

"You think so?"

The little blonde nodded. Helga had always wondered how she'd react if the day ever came where she started dating somebody. From the day Sender had been born, it had only ever been the two of them.

She turned back around and drove through the intersection, "Let me ask you something then." She glanced in the rearview, "If you're okay with this, do you think you would be okay staying in your own bed when I'm out from now on?"

Sender shrugged and looked at the window. The conversation ended there when Helga's phone began ringing, and seeing as it was Gerald, she felt compelled to answer it, however begrudgingly.

"Yeah? I am sitting…are you _serious_? Are you…whoa, whoa, I…you're not kidding. Holy shi—I'm coming down there. Yes! I want to see it! I want to hear it for myse—Listen, _Gerald_, considering what _hell_ you've put me through during the course of this, and we _both_ know what I'm talking about, I think you _owe _me this much," She growled into her phone, "Right…I'll see you in a few."

* * *

Helga had never made it to Olga's house and then back to Hillwood that fast in her life, quite she had broken at least two dozen traffic laws in the process. She dropped Sender off and gave her sister a hurried explanation of where she was going and the urgency of it before hitting the road. And now she was weaving her way through the precinct, hunting down a man that she'd spent a large majority of her time trying to avoid. When she finally spotted him, he hastily pulled her into an office, closing the door behind them before shoving a CD into her hands.

"Stay in here, watch it on the computer." He nodded to the desk, "Nobody else can know that you're seeing this, okay?"

Helga nodded, "Okay."

"I'll be outside," He said and exited the room without another word. As soon as he'd closed the door behind him, he whipped out his phone and pressed his number 1 contact and waited for a response, "Hey Phoebe. I need you to come down to the precinct…no—no I'm fine. I might need you to do something for me…I'll explain when you get down here, okay? Love you. Bye."

Inside the room Helga had popped the CD into the computer and began playing through the footage, first seeing a drunkenly distraught Casey dragged into this tiny little room and forced down into the chair while ranting and yelling. She then saw Gerald and Peter enter the room and sit. _"Aubrey wouldn't let me."_

A very distinct, wintery chill went creeping up Helga's spine, setting her hair on edge and sparking a wave of goose bumps across her body. _Aubrey_. What did she have to do with this? Gerald made no mention of her on the phone, only Casey.

The CD blipped ahead a few hours and then it was just Gerald and Casey, and for 30 minutes she watched and listened to the most horrific, gut clawing tale she'd ever heard in her life, and when the screen flipped to black, she felt too numb to move, too numb to cry, too numb to scream, but she felt the anger, felt the rage, felt the betrayal brewing in the depths of her soul, blackening her eyes with its toxic vapor and poisoning her mind with the most vile of thoughts. Without warning she bolted to the door and flung it open, catching Gerald entirely off guard.

"Where is she?" Helga demanded in a deadly voice. "Is she here?"

Gerald grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her aside, "Calm down."

"Let me see her," She hissed through her teeth.

"I can't."

"Let me see her, Gerald, or so help me God I—"

Peter walked up and put his hand on Gerald's shoulder, "Let her," He said and the younger man shot him a look, "I'd want the same thing if I were her."

* * *

Holding block 5 Gerald had instructed and shooed her down the corridor. She remembered being here on many occasions, none of which amounted to any importance or reminiscent nostalgia for her at the moment. When she stepped in front of the cell and saw Aubrey's eyes brighten from the bench were she sat, it made her want to puke.

"Holy hell," Aubrey said in surprise, "You're the last person I expected to see." She stood up and walked a little closer. "Jeez, you look pissed."

"You better be glad that you're in there because if you weren't, I'd strangle the life out of you myself," Helga said in a deadly tone, boring a hole through the girl she used to call her best friend.

The darker headed girl stopped in her tracks, perking a brow for the smirk that formed at the edge of her lips, "_Oh_."

"You were my fucking friend!" Helga yelled, "Why would you do that!? He never did anything to you!"

Aubrey collapsed back onto the bench, "Because I could." She shrugged, "Because I wanted too."

"That wasn't your choice! He wasn't yours to take away! He was mine. You took him from _me_. You took my daughter's Father away from her. Do you not care?" Helga asked, "Do you not understand what a massive part of our lives you've ruined?" A few tears began streaking down her face, "And this…this whole time you've been walking around, doing crazy shit with me, watching my daughter grow up, all the while _knowing_ that you're the _reason_ for my unhappiness, you're the _reason_ Sender doesn't have her Daddy."

Aubrey chortled darkly, "Darling, when you're as dead inside as I am, there isn't much you do care about." Her true colors were coming out, and boy were they ugly. So ugly, Helga almost forgot to breath, "I certainly haven't ever lost sleep at night over you or your little girl. You always did know how to party though…that's why I stuck around. I like to be entertained."

That was it. That was about as much as Helga could stand being in her presence any longer. That vile creature. "I hope hell exists. And that there's a special place in it for someone like you." With that, she turned and stormed out.

When she re-entered the main area of the precinct she saw Gerald and Phoebe standing over by a desk, but kept on her path to the door. "Helga!" She heard her name being called, "Helga!" it said again and this time she felt a hand grab her arm.

"Let me go, Gerald!" She yanked it away from his grasp, storming out the front doors.

"Phoebe," He hurriedly turned to the petite woman, "I need you to go after her. I can't leave. Try to calm her down or…follow her, make sure she gets home. I don't know what kind of state of mind she's in."

"I know." She was already out the door.

"Helga!" Phoebe called after the fiery blonde and much like Gerald, she got no answer, "Helga wait, please!"

"Did he send you to tail me?" She turned on her friend.

"We're just worried about you, Helga," Phoebe tried.

"Worried about what? That I'm going to go get drunk? Or lit?" She yelled.

"Helga…please…"

The blonde dropped her shoulders and her head, "I'm not. I'm going home, okay? I'm going home." She said before opening her car door, "I promise you, Pheebs."

* * *

Helga didn't remember the drive home. Everything was such a blur. One minute she'd been in the parking lot, the next, in Olga's guest drive, staring out of the windshield into the night. Her throat ached with the bile that had been building in it, her eyes hurt, her body hurt, her heart hurt, her brain hurt. She didn't know when they started but the tears were streaming like rivers down her sullen face. That's when she felt the sobs begin rattling through her body, dragging her down into a pit of despair. She sat in her car and cried for what felt like hours, crying for her, crying for him, crying till she couldn't muster the strength to produce another single tear, till her eyes were too raw to touch.

It was only then that she stumbled out of the car and into the house, thankful that there was nobody still awake at that time as she moped to her room. Sender was asleep in her bed, yet again, but for once, she wasn't bothered by it. She stepped out of her shoes and crawled under the covers, lacking the motivation to change clothes. Pulling her daughter to her she kissed her on the forehead before falling into a dreamless abyss.

* * *

It felt like she'd been asleep for hours, but it could have been minutes for all she knew, but she'd gone from practically being unconscious to being shoved to the surface and into a light slumber with the strangest feeling of somebody being in the room with her.

"Sometimes, closure is just as painful as not knowing." She heard a familiar voice say. Familiar enough that she peeked an eye open and nearly had a heart attack.

"Holy—" She bolted upright and slid back against the head board. He still looked the same, except maybe better, dressed in some jeans and a blue polo, sitting casually on the edge of the bed and peering down at their daughter with the softest most adoring face. "You-you-your dead! Oh…shit…I'm-I'm-I'm dreaming."

Arnold looked up at her, "You aren't dreaming." He smiled.

"You're dead."

"What's death but another plane of existence?" He turned back to Sender who was still out like a light. "She sleeps like me. The house could collapse and she wouldn't budge," He mused, "But is such a little bed hog just like you."

All Helga could do was stare at him. She knew had to be dreaming. He looked to real, too solid to be, well anything other than a figment of her very active dream state.

"Are you just going to stare?"

She gulped, "If you're real…why-why are you just now showing yourself to me?"

"Technically I'm not. I did try to save you when you...you know. But you were very defiant. That wasn't a dream either. I'm sitting here _right now_, because you can finally handle it." She had to admit, it made good sense.

For some unexplainable reason, she felt a warm wave of relaxation was over her, ebbing away the fear and skepticism. "It really is you, isn't it?" She finally said.

Arnold nodded, "Yeah, it is."

"Why are you here?"

"I've been here."

"But why?"

He smiled and glanced back down to Sender, "Because I have unfinished business."

Helga followed his eyes, "She's your unfinished business." She realized.

"Since the day she arrived. I've never been too far away."

"Has she seen you?"

Arnold shook his head, "Only when she was a baby and only because I used to hold her at night after you'd gone to sleep." Helga felt her eyes begin to water, "I make sure she's safe. Keep her out of _trouble._" He cracked a smile at her, "You don't honestly think she's a perfect angel do you?" He winked.

Helga laughed and wiped her eyes, "I guess I know now."

"Helga I want you to know that I don't blame you for everything that happened."

"How can you not? I was so awful to you. I caused all of our problems."

Arnold didn't appear convinced, "We were both young, we both handled certain situations in the wrong way. I didn't know how to deal with what you were going through any better than you did. I thought I did."

"I just wish, so badly, that things could have been different. That _I_ could have been different." She felt a few tears leak over her raw lids.

Arnold took her in with a soft expression, "I don't want you to spend the rest of your life wishing and worrying about me. I'm in a good place. I'm happy. I want you to be happy too."

"It just feels so selfish to do so sometimes because you're…"

"I know, but like I said, I'm fine. I want you to be happy. She needs you to be happy." He motioned to their sleeping daughter.

Helga nodded. "I think I'll always love you though. I've loved you since you shared your umbrella with me." A small but watery smile played across her face. Her eyes were just shimmering with tears.

He smiled, "I still love you too. I love you both more than you can ever know."


	27. Free

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold or The Tree of Life.

Summary: A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

* * *

**Free**

"Not going to run from everything,

Everything that holds me down,

Nothing to win,

Nothing to lose,

It's time to be what I need to be,

You can't tell me what to do anymore,

You can't tell me what to do anymore,

You can't tell me what to do anymore,

Now I'm free." –Vast (Free)

* * *

**2 Months later**

_"You think I feel bad? Ha! I don't feel anything. My heart beats, it keeps me alive but that's about the extent of its function in my life. You think I woke up that morning deciding I was going to kill him? Hell, I didn't even pull the Goddamn trigger. I guess I did let him die though. I prevented Casey from helping him. I had no problem with doing that. He really did want to help him though. I admire that type of human emotion, that need to save a member of the species and all. I don't feel…connections to people like that. I use people for my own entertainment, I endure society, but I don't feel anything for anybody. I thought Casey was going to puke everywhere. I didn't see what the big deal was; watching somebody die wasn't as interesting as I'd thought it'd be. One minute their there and the next they aren't. It's like turning off a fucking computer. It's** that** simple."_

_"Have you ever seen it? Then don't judge! My Father? Fuck him. I haven't seen him in over 20 years. What the hell would he-Okay, I'll give you that, Arnold did look a lot like him. You think that's why I did what I did? I don't know, you're the doc, you tell me. Did I psychologically kill my dear Daddy through Arnold? Am I just a ticking time bomb? Am I going to kill some whore that looks like my Mother next? Hmm? Am I working my way to that? Ha! Oh, no, no don't get me wrong, I appreciate her sticking it out with me, unlike **him**, but **fuck** is she ever a Goddamn whore. It disgusts me. No, it's not because I have an issue with men! I'm tired of you people saying that. Who—who cares what my file says? Maybe I'm just fucking violent. Ever thought about that?"_

Gerald pressed the stop button on the tape. He removed it from the player and placed it back in its case, running the pad of his thumb over the label. _'S. Underwood – tape 0002'_ it read in slightly smudged sharpie print. He tossed it into a box that sat atop his desk and placed the lid over it. With a sigh of content he grabbed a marker out of his desk drawer and wrote the word 'SOLVED' on the top.

* * *

**3 years later**

Helga leaned up against the side of her SUV, gathering her thoughts while relishing in the remnants of a habit that she'd been forced to quit. Propping up against her vehicle and having a…well now a piece of gum. Bummer. She knew she should have been _happier_ about it than she was. Yes, it had been a raunchy habit, yes, she was saving her health-yada-yada-yada, but damn had she loved smoking. Thoroughly enjoyed it. Especially during bouts of stress, like her unexpected stroll down memory lane today. Though that wasn't even a good excuse, she wasn't stressed out right now. She felt more overextended and exhausted if anything…and ready for Gerald to hurry his ass up—

"Look at you." He came strolling up with a big smile, eyes running from her head to her toe.

Helga's eyes rolled with loving annoyance, "Oh please, you act like we haven't seen each other in a year."

"It's been over a month." He crossed his arms and leaned against her vehicle, "You look good. You're carrying that baby well. Some women just...blow up all over the place."

The blonde snorted, running her hands over her abdomen, "Yeah that could _still_ happen." She laughed, "But thank you for the compliments. We actually found out what we're having this past Monday."

"Oh yeah?" Gerald's brow arched, "What is it?"

"Like I'm telling you."

He was immediately taken aback, "Then why even mention it?"

"Don't get your briefs in a wad _bro_, we're having a reveal party. You'll get an invitation in the next few days. In the meantime, try to contain your anticipation." She smirked.

"What is a-you know, I'm not even going to ask."

"Eh, just ask your wife later." She dismissed it with her hand, "Anyway, I heard that you two closed on that house this week."

Gerald's face brightened in mirth, "We did. Hopefully we'll get the keys soon and start moving in in the next few weeks."

Helga smiled, "That's exciting. Pheebs just gushed about the neighborhood."

Gerald nodded, "Yeah, it's really great. She fell in love. I'm just happy to have a basement." He noted.

"A basement?" Helga repeated.

"Man cave." He smiled broadly.

Helga tossed him an eye roll in return, "So what've you be up to lately? My daughter is wondering why her Uncle Gerald hasn't called her back about going fishing."

"I know, I know," Gerald sighed, letting his head drop, "I've just been _so_ busy at work and with this house business that it's just slipped my mind."

"I figured as much." Helga knew from Phoebe that since he'd become a official detective a year and a half ago, his hours at the precinct had, at times, become dreadfully long. And especially since he'd moved out of the cold case division.

"So uh, we brought Sid in last week."

Very slowly, Helga glanced up at him, "Seriously?"

"Mmhm. Peter and I got sent out to investigate an overdose slash possible homicide." Helga's eyes widened, "There was a woman dead in his bathroom. A woman we saw him with three years ago actually—"

"-Chelsea," The blonde murmured.

Gerald paused and looked at her for a moment, "Yeah," He said slowly before clearing his throat and pressing on, "She had a head wound that we weren't sure about. Anyway, based on the bruising pattern, the lab thinks that she probably nodded off while sitting on the side of the tub after shooting up and smacked her head on the toilet. The heroine killed her though, not the head trauma."

"Jesus…" She shuttered.

"Sid's been booked on possession of heroin."

Helga shifted on her feet a little, "How's he doing?" She couldn't help but ask. She hadn't seen nor spoken to him in three years, but she couldn't help be feel the tiniest bit sorry for him. After all, she _had_ abandoned him, never once asking if he wanted to get his act together too. Now she felt bad about it.

"Not good, Helga."

She sighed heavily, shifting around on her feet, "Are you guys going to throw the book at him or put him on probation?"

"That I can't say. The state seems to think that letting him sit in jail will do him some good. Personally, I'd ship him off to a rehab center if I had my say."

"Let me know what happens with him, will you?"

"Yeah, sure thing," Gerald began rubbing the back if his neck, "So, uh...how'd it go in there?" He nodded to the facility.

She shrugged, "Hopefully I scared the shit out of them. Or showed them that there _is_ a way out...besides...you know, the current path they're on."

"The vast majority of them are good kids. They just..."

"-Don't know what to do with themselves." Helga finished for him. "You can see it their eyes. They're lost and in desperate need of some guidance. Been there."

"Yeah. They are. It's why I like coming over here and talking to them. Maybe it'll prevent me from seeing them in the precinct again."

Helga nodded, "Maybe so."

"Think you might want to come back? They probably take you more seriously than me."

She laughed a little, "I bet so. You're _the man_, Bruce Wayne."

Gerald threw her his famous deadpan look. He wouldn't ever tell her, but he'd actually grown fond of being referred to as the DC comic superhero. "And that makes you who? Selena Kyle? The villainess turned heroine?" He chortled.

"Something to that effect," She agreed smartly before clearing her throat, "But yeah I'd like to come back. Consider it my retribution to society for past misdeeds."

A grin spread across Gerald's face, "Sounds like ample repayment."

Repayment indeed.

Helga offered him a quick smile before she looked down and began chewing on her lip, suddenly reminded by something she wanted to tell him. She wasn't exactly sure how to say it. It should have been said long ago, but, then again it shouldn't have surprised her that it hadn't been. When it came to their friendship, the past had been mostly swept under the rug. _Perhaps not anymore_, she avowed with a deep breath. "You know Gerald, I realized something today…" Her blue eyes met with his chocolates, "I realized that I never told you thank you."

"Thank you? For what?" He was entirely puzzled by the statement, trying to rack his brain for what she could possibly have been talking about, but finding nothing.

"For…busting that party and getting me to the hospital…for…chasing me down while you were off duty and making sure I couldn't escape from rehab again. I know you think that I always blamed you for pushing me too far but, the fact is, if it _hadn't_ been for you, I would most _certainly_ be dead right now. _Even_ if it hadn't been from the party…it would have only been a matter of time as much as I was pushing it. Heroin probably would have been the next step for me, and I would have been Chelsea."

Gerald didn't know what to say. He was floored, and touched. It was probably the nicest, most forgiving thing she could ever had said to him. He reached out and draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a sideways hug, "And I've never told you sorry for being a bone headed cop either."

Helga let her hand rest on his backside, "I guess we're even then."

"I guess we are."

* * *

Helga pulled up the curb of what most would probably consider being the most drab and sorrow draped slab of land in the entirety of Hillwood. The city cemetery. She wasn't one of those that saw it that way though. In her opinion it was tranquil place if anything, peaceful to walk through. Life had been rather busy, so she hadn't been in a month or more to do what she needed to. She made a point to make sure it got done that day.

She grabbed the flowers out of the back of her car and made her way up the cobblestone path, to the back left oak wood tree where Arnold's gravestone rested. The fall leaves had blanketed most of the stone in a sorbet of colors. She knelt and brushed those away with her hand before dropping the bouquet of flowers into the attached vase. Nobody but him would ever know how sorry she still was. It was something that she'd accepted, knowing that at the very least she could say that she'd learned to live and breath again, learned to go on with life.

"Well, there you go. Nice and clean," She sat back on her haunches, "Oh, who am I kidding. You probably aren't here anyway. You're probably lurking around my house somewhere, or as B says, rattling rafters in the attic." She started chuckling to herself. "Where ever she is right? Well, whatever you're up to and wherever you are…I hope you're still happy." She stood up and smiled, "I love you," She said, and as she turned to walk away she felt an ice cold breeze run right through her, momentarily taking her breath away.

* * *

When Helga stepped into her home that night she was immediately greeted by thumping music and needles scratching across vinyl in itchy rhythms. Seeing no use in calling for her family, she proceeded to the stairs and hiked up to the room above where she found Sender in the corner, twisting records on the turntables, grooving her little body to the beat, while Brian bobbed his head over by the shelf, appearing to flip through his albums.

Her dear sweet husband of nearly two years. Even now, the very sight of him made her heart gallop and the kung fu of her wee passenger become positively black belt. Sender was wearing a pair of giant ear phones, intently staring down at her hands, completely in her own world, never once noticing her mother in front of her. Helga knew that look _anywhere_, that focused concentration that she'd grown up seeing in the face of Arnold whenever he was deep in a task. Baseball when they were kids. Sender preferred soccer with her girlfriends, fishing and basketball with her Uncle Gerald and spinning vinyl with Brian, but it was still the same emotion.

Helga loved it, no longer feeling bitter or resentful about it. But as much as she'd grown to love the Arnold-ness, she also loved that her daughter was beginning to grow into her own little person. And, as vain as it sounded, she was pleased to see a little bit more of herself begin to bubble up in her too. It all caused a smile to curl her lips upward as she brought her hand to rest over her stomach, still decently hidden by her coat. She was impossibly happy, with her life, with her growing family, with herself, sometimes it still amazed her that she'd been able to come as far as she had in such a short time.

She'd grown up.

"Hey!" Helga finally announced.

Brian turned, his face brightening at the sight of this wife. "Hey baby," He said and walked over to give her a kiss. By then Sender had dampened the volume and ceased her ruthless scratching.

"Hey mom." She smiled and pulled her headphones down.

"Hey sweetheart."

"She's getting really good at spinning huh?" Brian beamed proudly.

"She is," Helga agreed, "I thought I was walking into a night club."

"Really?!" Her daughters face lit up.

"Oh yeah."

"Sweet. I think I'm just going to grow up and do this for money and stuff."

"You think so?" Helga humored her.

"Yep."

"Go for it kiddo." Brian winked and gave her the thumbs up.

"Well, since Uncle Gerald isn't here to say it, I guess I will. You're a bold kid, Sender."

A scowl quickly down turned Sender's face, "Didn't you see him today? Why hasn't he called me back yet?"

"He's been very busy lately. You know he and Aunt Phoebe are moving soon, so he's not going to have much free time for awhile."

"Oh," Sender pouted for a moment, "Bummer."

"So..." Brian cleared his throat, crossing his arms while giving his step child a look that Helga was immediately concerned with. That look that-as a parent-told her there was something she needed to know...and was about to find out. "Do you want to tell her or do you want me to?" He asked.

The little blonde looked strained for a moment and began shifting on her feet. "Do we have to?" She tried.

"Tell me what?" Helga's gaze bounced between her daughter and her husband. When Brian's brow raised high on his forehead, Sender finally caved with a sigh.

"I got in trouble at school today," She quietly said while staring at the floor.

"Okay, what kind of trouble?"

Her daughter crossed her arms, shifting around on her feet like she suddenly had rocks in her shoes, "I got sent to the principal's office because I punched Riley Palmer in the face at recess."

"Sender Alexandria Shortman."

"Mom..."

Helga ran a hand through her hair, "Why on earth would you do that?"

A smidge of temper flared up under her cheeks, causing them to redden, "Because he's been a totally _annoying_ dweeb since we were like…_six_ and he just made me _so_ mad and I was tired of it!" She complained.

"And-How come nobody felt the need to call me?"

Sender dropped her head, clearly disappointed in what she was about to say, "I...I didn't want to tell you so...well, so I called Brian instead."

Helga's mouth fell open.

"I went up there." Brian stepped in. "She didn't get suspended; she's just going to have detention for the next month. To be honest, when Harold discovered that she's a _Pataki_/Shortman he thought the whole thing was rather comical."

Helga blinked, "Harold?" Brian nodded, "Harold _Berman_ is the principal now?"

"Who'd a thought, right?"

His wife ran her hand over her face and turned, "I'm going down stairs. I need some water. B, there's some paint in my car I need for you to get out," She said before looking over at Sender and saying, "Kitchen, little Miss." And leaving the room.

It took her a moment to follow, but Helga heard her daughter creep in and seat herself at the breakfast bar while she stood at the sink finishing her glass of water.

"Are you super mad at me?"

"I'm not the most pleased with you at the moment."

"Am...am I grounded now?"

"You betcha." Helga sat the glass down and turned around in time to catch the newly slumped posture of her disparaged nine year old.

"So I guess I've got to cancel my sleep over tonight, huh?" She asked wearily, however, peeking up at her mother with a glimmer of hope reflecting in her green pools.

Helga looked at her for a moment, biting the corner of her lip before finally sighing. She knew that Sender felt badly about it. It wasn't often that her daughter didn't _want_ to tell her something, and it didn't feel totally right to be_ that_ harsh about it. "No, I'm not going to make you do that."

"Really?" Sender grinned.

"_However,_" Helga pointedly went on. "For the next two weeks your iPad is mine, no turn tables, no talking on the phone, no hanging out, and no sleep overs."

That little grin fell right off her face, "Two weeks?" She whined.

"Child _please_, I used to get grounded for months at a time for far less. Two weeks will be over before you know."

"Yeah...right."

Helga walked over and put her arm around her daughter, "Be nice to Riley, 'kay? And if you haven't already, apologize for hitting him."

Sender nodded with a sigh, "I did. We made a truce too. Mostly because I think he's a little scared of me now. He told me that I didn't hit like a girl."

"Oh."

"He agreed to stop being a dweeby pest, and I agreed to hang out with him once in awhile or something." She rolled her eyes dramatically. "We'll see how _that_ works."

Helga chuckled, "You never know. You might find that you actually like hanging out with him."

"I don't think so."

"You know I pestered your Dad all through elementary school..."

"_Ugh_, gag me." Sender made a sour face, and Helga laughed, "Never going to happen. I'll be his friend but that's _it_. Besides, I sort of like-like this other boy anyway."

"Oh yeah? What's his name?"

"Brad Marrow. He's like…the coolest boy in our _entire_ grade," Sender explained, even looking a bit star struck by just mentioning him.

"Have you talked to him any?"

Sender snapped out of it, quickly, tossing her Mother a flabbergasted look. "What? No, _Mom_. I can't just go _talk_ to him!"

Helga laughed. Everything's a crisis when one is young, "Why not?"

"_Because_."

Before Helga could say anything, the tranquil conversation was interrupted by the clickedy stampede of their animals barreling into the kitchen. Lou Dog came around the corner first, licking Helga's hand before shoving his head in Sender's lap so she could pet him. While that was happening, Sender's pig, Abner Maurice, affectionately known as "Maury" came trotting in and began grunting around and stomping his little hooves as if he were sore about being last to the party. They also had a cat around somewhere named Sir _Claw_dius McFluff and a hedgehog named Quillem. Needless to say, they all loved them some Sender.

"Hooligan alert," Brian announced, walking in behind their pets. "Got the paint out. Should I go ahead and order up some pizzas?"

Sender nodded, "Everybody'll be here in about an hour. I guess I should go drag my stuff upstairs before they get here." She jumped off her stool, "Come on guys!" She called and their pets dutifully trotted out behind her.

"I grounded her for two weeks." Helga faced her husband once Sender had left.

Brian nodded, "I honestly had no idea what you would even want to do about it. She _never_ gets in trouble."

"_Never,_" Helga agreed.

"Well, you know the good news is…I don't think we'll have to worry about her when she gets older."

Helga quirked a brow, "How so?"

"She punched a boy in the face because he was _bothering_ her." He said as if it was the most obvious thing ever, "Everybody knows that she isn't going to put up with crap from the opposite sex now and I couldn't be _more_ thrilled."

"Boys beware, huh?" She smirked.

"Now that the whole school knows she's got a right hook. Hey, less of them I'll have to chase off. Arnold's rattling a rafter in _joy_ right now." He laughed.

Helga chortled, rolling her eyes as she batted him playfully with her palm.

* * *

"Alright, you girls have fun." Helga gave her daughter and her 3 amigos a warm smile and headed down the stairs, "Don't spill anything up here," She popped back up quickly.

Sender waved her off from their camp out area in front of television, "I'm not going to get anything on the carpet." She reassured and took another bite of pizza.

"Like when you spilt the soda everywhere?" Her friend Amber chimed in quickly.

The petit blonde immediately dead panned, "Thanks Amber…"

"Of course!"

Helga just shook her head and laughed, "Have fun," She repeated and ducked downstairs to find her Husband. He was found, pouring paint into a rolling tray and staring unenthusiastically at the primer white walls of their soon-to-be nursery. The crown molding was up and so was the chair rail molding, now they just had to paint the portion of wall above the chair rail. Or at least that was the goal for the night.

Brian turned around, "Remind me again, why we are doing all of this since we're just going to be moving in 8 months?" Moving indeed. The basement and foundation of their new house had been laid two weeks prior. No more retirement Mecca, and Helga couldn't have been _happier. _Brian may have liked living amongst the elder wise folk of society, and to be fair, their neighbors were _amazing_ and that Mrs. Roberts next door had some of the funniest stories about her and her late husband's adventures that one would ever here, but Helga needed to live amongst people who weren't 30 years her senior.

"Sheesh, you're being rather insensitive."

"I'm not trying to be," He smiled, "I'm just having troubling find the efficiency in all of this. She isn't going to care, you know. She isn't going to come marching in here demanding mint green paint and decorative trim."

Helga snorted, "Well, of course she isn't going to care. This is for _me_. It just feels wrong to wait to do all of this until after she's born and we've moved is all."

"Yeah, I guess it does," Brian agreed.

"That and I want to have something to show at our party in two weeks, because you know everybody is going to ask, _especially_ Olga." Helga chuckled to herself, "Besides, it can be considered a modest home improvement for when we put this place on the market."

Her Husband returned a smile, "Efficiency," He said cheerily. Helga walked over and grabbed the paint roller and began running it through the squishy substance until it was well coated. Brian was quick to her side, "Can't you just…supervise of something."

"Huh?" She peered up at him in wonderment.

"It won't take me long to do this, being only half the wall and everything." He shrugged, "You can just hang out and talk to me. How's that?"

Her eyes narrowed at him suspiciously, "I think I'd rather paint."

"And I'd rather you didn't."

"Why not?" She crossed her arms and took a step back.

How could he put it without making her mad? "Because I don't want you straining yourself," He tried delicately.

Not delicately enough because an annoyed sigh still escaped her lips as her arms dropped to her side, "Strain myself?" She said with an incredulous eye roll, "Do you know what this is?" She was drawing a circle in the air over her midsection.

Brian looked at her for a moment, trying to decide whether the question was rhetorical or not. When her eyes widened a little bit, beckoning an answer, he said, "The growing manifestation of our love?" Her face deadpanned a little and he almost laughed.

_That smartass. _"While also a true statement, it isn't the one I'm looking for. _This_," She emphasized rapidly with her hand, "Is a natural and ordinary phase of life, _NOT_ a disability."

"I realize that, but…It'd make me happy if you sat this out."

She didn't like it, and she didn't want to, but if it made him feel better she'd just hang out and watch. She sighed quietly and caved with a nod, "Alright, fine." She conceded and walked over to the dresser, hopping up on it to sit. For the next half hour they chatted while she watched him methodically apply paint to the walls.

"You never told me how that thing you did today went."

Helga perked, "Oh, yeah…right. It went well."

"Great."

"I'm probably going to go back. I liked it and Gerald seems to want me to so…"

Brian faced her with a genuinely warm smile, "I figured that it would be something right up your alley."

Helga sighed, "Yeah. It sort of makes me wish I could go back to school though," She longingly said.

"So, why don't you?"

"Um…" She gave him a funny look and chuckled, "Do I look like I'm going to have a ton of free time on my hands anytime soon?"

Brian dismissed her with his hand, "I meant in the near future. Like in the next 2 or 3 years."

"I don't know, maybe." She looked down, conspiring to pick at a piece of painters tape clinging to the edge of the dresser.

"I know you don't want to work at the architectural firm forever. And you've got this B.A. in psychology that you've done nothing with."

"Trust me, _I don't_. The original plan all along was to get a master's in counseling. The bachelors was _always_ just a stepping stone degree. Obviously things got _derailed. _Lord knows I _barely_ finished undergrad and my grades were nothing spectacular at the end either."

Ever the optimist, Brian shook his head, refusing to accept her excuses, "I think you should do it. I think you should put it on the list of things you want to accomplish and give yourself a timeline to do it."

Helga reluctantly nodded, "I'll look into it."

Brian went on about his painting while his wife fell silent for the first time since he'd started. It didn't stay that way too long. "Ow, that was mommy's bladder." Helga placed her hand over her stomach.

"Our little kung fu master at it again?"

"She's flopping everywhere, including on my bladder," She chuckled, "She moves like crazy. So much so that it's almost concerning."

Her husband frowned, "The doc said it's normal though, right?" He said, shelving his paint roller to look at his wife a little more closely.

To his relief, Helga flashed him a warm smile and nodded, "Absolutely. _I'm_ still getting used to it, is what I meant. Sender was _never_ this active."

Brian snorted, making his disbelief clearly known, "I find that hard to believe. She's _always_ on the move."

"She is now, but she was a lethargic little thing the entire 32 weeks I carried her. And if this little one doesn't watch out," She turned her attention back to her protruding belly, "She's going to squirm right out of there early too," She teased.

Brian laughed, "Oh, no, no, tell her to stay put. Her lease doesn't run out for at least another what? 17…18 weeks?"

Helga looked appalled, "Jee thanks for likening my body to rental property," She threw a piece of crown molding chip at him. It hit him squarely in the chest and fell harmlessly to the floor with a weak and disappointing thud. "I hope your spawn has a nice stay. Don't ask me for a reference."

Brian was trying not to laugh. Really, he was! But that pointed, un-amused look that she was giving him was hilariously adorable. So much so, that he had to look away or he _would_ laugh, and he quickly did so, swallowing hard, swallowing down those snickers before offering her what he considered to be appeasement. "I love you," He cooed with puppy eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." She was already waving him off, having none of it. "You're lucky I don't come over there and ruin those nice glasses," She threatened, but in her usual form and without a shred ill will. He only shook his head at her before reaching for his paint roller and resuming his swiping on the wall. He had one and half walls left to go. At least for a first coat.

Helga watched him for a full minute before continuing, "You know what's funny though?"

"What?"

"While I'm at work all day, she's completely docile, but the _minute_ I get home and get around you...that's when she's suddenly Miss Active."

"Is that so?" Brian smirked, coming over and rubbing his hand across her baby bump, "She likes being around her Daddy."

"Perhaps so. Or perhaps she's just reactive to the fact that you tend to make my heart beat faster." Helga quirked a single brow suggestively while her husband's smirk grew.

"Oh, do I still?"

"Mmhm." She smiled, leaning forward and planting her lips soundly on his. The two very quickly wound around one another, preferring to make out for a while instead of getting that paint on the walls. "Want to fool around?" She whispered against his mouth.

"Right now?"

"Yeah." She smiled, hands coming down to his waistband. "All of this watching you paint has really put me in the mood."

"Really? _That's_ gotten you hot and bothered?"

"Oh yeah. Haywire hormones babe."

"How about you hold that thought until a little later—"

She was having none of it. He gasped when one of those hands of hers slipped passed his waistband and on to something more…substantial. "_Ah_…" His palms planted on either side of her, eyes rolling back in his head. "We can't. Not-_mmm_...right now. We've got kids upstairs that are-_God bless-_still awake."

"They aren't going to bother us."

"Helga…"

"They're scarfing down pizza…" She said between them, "Probably watching a tween flick, and gossiping about elementary school drama. We won't see them for the _rest_ of the night like usual." Why this sounded plausible, he didn't know...scratch that, considering just _what_ she was doing to him, he knew exactly _why_. Let's face it, there wasn't much activity going on in the brain upstairs. God help him, his grip was slipping, and it was putting him in no position to refuse her.

As usual, his brain was no match for his newly inflamed desires. Without batting an eye he swatted her hand away, grabbing her hips and sliding her to the very edge of the dresser, bringing her lower half as flush with his as he could before he pulled her head into a bone crushing lip lock. The want was just rolling off her, and he was breaking apart in its radiation. "I'm'a pull you off." His voice was husky and dark but still dipped in honey seduction making Helga nearly melt on the spot.

He pulled her from the dresser, letting her down till her feet gently hit the floor. His head was so full of light and arousal. He pushed her back up against the piece of furniture, momentarily hating that he couldn't be as close to her as he wanted, but simultaneously bursting with love at feeling their little baby between them.

"Shut the door," She managed to pant. Brian unwillingly pried himself away from her, rushing as quickly as he could to push the door closed and give the lock a twist.

He turned his dark gaze back onto her, raking over her flushed body, seeing the desperate, pleading want in her eyes. She was a mess. A hot mess…that he needed to take care of. He hurried back over, grabbing her head and pulling her mouth to his another heated kiss. It seemed that as quickly as his lips had been avid and blistering against hers, they were gone, leaving her whimpering at his sudden absence. A whimper that quickly became a stunned gasp as he grabbed her hips and spun her around, "Hands on the dresser," He growled into her ear.

* * *

"We are _terrible_," Helga said as the two of them emerged from the bedroom a short time later. "We just defiled our unborn child's bedroom."

Brian barked a laugh, "Whose idea was that again?"

"I didn't hear complaints."

"Eh, were moving anyway," He waved it off as he collapsed onto the sofa, pulling her down with him. She snuggled up to him as best as she could and yawned. "Want to watch a movie?" He flipped the television on.

"I think I'm going to doze for a little while."

Brian looked down at where she was nuzzled on his shoulder and smiled, "Really?"

She nodded, never opening her eyes, "Treasure sleep while you can." She said with an air of wisdom. "You have no idea what's coming down the pike."

"I know. So you don't mind if I watch the Tree of Life without you?"

"Knock yourself out," She mumbled, already half asleep. "I love you…"

He kissed the top of her head, "I Love _you_."

* * *

"She mixed black and navy blue! I mean, what was she thinking?" Kate exclaimed in total disbelief.

"Totally outrageous," Chloe agreed and Sender and Amber laughed.

Kate went on, "So I said, excuse me _Miss Thing_, but this is the fashion police and I'm going to have to write you a ticket."

"_Ouch_," Chloe said, examining her newly painted nails.

"That's terrible," Sender said just as she finished up painting her own toenails, passing the bottle over to her friend.

Kate shrugged indifferently, taking the bottle from the blonde. "Hey, girl's got to learn."

"I don't know why we don't just try to be friends with her. She seems like a nice enough person."

Kate's eyes widened, "Be friends with Emma Kelley? As _if!_"

Sender just rolled her eyes, "Oh please. I don't want to get a reputation for being a mean girl… well, except to Riley." Everybody laughed, "We may run the school, but that doesn't mean we need to be divas about it. I'm just saying that she's new and we should be friendly."

"You know," Amber piped up, "She _was _really nice when I was partners with her for that math assignment."

"She has worn a couple cute outfits," Chloe admitted.

Kate finally huffed, "Okay, I get it. Maybe I was a little harsh…" It still didn't prevent the stern look that Sender began extruding, "_Fine_, I'm a mean girl," Kate crossed her arms, buckling under her friend's gaze, "So we'll stage a meeting under the jungle Jim on Monday. Amber, can you pass her a note in first block?"

"Affirmative!" Amber beamed.

"Don't act so bummed. It'll be great. You'll see!" Sender assured but Kate just grumbled. Sender knew she'd get over it though.

"Oh. _Snap_. Amber!" Chloe blurted, as if she'd just remembered something.

Amber looked entirely perplexed…and a little scared, "W-what?" She nervously replied.

"I heard from my brother, that Scott Harlow has the _biggest_ crush on you." Chloe had a twin brother. That brother just happen to be a part of Scott's circle. It was amazing how small the world could be…or maybe it was only the world of Hillwood.

Sender tilted her head, as equally puzzled as Amber was, "My cousin?"

"Her cousin?" Amber repeated, face reddening considerably.

Chloe nodded, "Yep."

"You do talk to him a lot." Sender nudged her with her elbow.

"Oh my. Not about anything important! This is certainly a development."

At that Kate started laughing, "Well you can always get some tips from Sendy on how to take care of pesky crushes," She teased.

"Yeah, yeah," Sender waved her off.

"I cannot _believe_ that you didn't get in trouble for that," Kate jealously mused.

Sender scoffed at Kate's assumption, "I _wish_. I got grounded for two whole_ weeks._"

"Psht." Kate rolled her eyes, "We're still over here on a Friday night aren't we? You're parents are so chill. _Jealous_. Speaking of crushes, Sendy, are you ever going to go talk to Brad?"

Sender's face flushed a little, "I mean, yeah, maybe eventually," She played cool.

Kate shook her head in disappointment, "Girl, I'm not sure how you are _so_ outgoing and _so_ shy at the same time. Anyway, so what do you all want to do now?"

Chloe yawned, "Well, we ate all the pizza. I guess the only thing left to do is go to sleep."

"Ugh…Chloe, its 7:30," Sender informed her.

"Oh yeah, right." Everybody blinked as the girl laughed before slumping her shoulders, "I had a lot of tests today…"

"Well anyway," Kate pressed on, "I don't really feel like starting that movie yet,"

Amber shook her head, snapping out of her Scott induced daze, "Me either."

"I've already painted all of my nails. I even painted _Lou's_," Chloe pointed to the dog lying next to her, who, was now sporting a fabulous set fuchsia nails on all four feet. He started waging his tail at the mention of his name. "I don't know what there's left to do."

"You could paint Maury's hooves," Sender jokingly suggested, but to her amazement, Chloe raised an interested eyebrow and beckoned the swine over to sit in her lap.

"Well I'm all out of gossip. It was a slow day, and Fuzzy Mittens had _nothing_ for me."

"We could tell ghost stories," Amber suggested.

"Does anybody actually _know_ any?" They all looked around at each other.

"I have a scary story," Sender sat up, "One that will scare your socks off." Her friends immediately began sporting equally unconvinced looks. "I'm serious. I heard it from my Uncle…who heard it from my Dad. It's _totally _legit."

"Alright, lets here it then."

Sender jumped up and flipped off the lights and the four girls all sat up and gathered into a circle around their sleeping bags. "This is the tale of the Headless Cabbie," Sender dramatically flipped on the flashlight.

And then she felt it, she felt that familiar cold chill she'd been running into for most of her young life hover down next to her, almost as if it had been standing and sat down. It made the hair on her arm stand straight, and a wave of goose bumps shoot over her like spilled water. Her gut had always told her that it was her Dad, and it was the only reason that she'd never been frightened by the unexplainable occurrence. She sneaked a peek out of the corner of her eye and smirked.

_Hi Dad_.

She took a deep breath, "A hundred years ago, on a misty, foggy autumn night…."

* * *

**A/N: **Alright I've decided to throw up an epilogue after this, just because everybody asked for one so...ONE MORE CHAPTER! It's going to consist of a few time jumps, but I think it'll wrap it up nicely. Then I'm done with this! No more! Trust me, it's heartbreaking for me to have to walk away from these so characters too. It's been a long journey and I very much appreciate everybody that has taken the ride with me. Leave some love and hold tight for the grand finale!


	28. Epilogue

WeDisclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold or anything else I might mention.

Summary: A 26 year old Helga has a near death experience with a drug addiction that sends her into rehab. While there, Gerald begins to dig into the past and brings out a skeleton in her closet that has haunted the both of them. And what exactly does all of this have to do with Arnold anyway?

**A/N**: Jeez guys, I'm so very sorry about taking this long to put this up. I've had a million things happen since my last post. Our land Lord fire sold our apartment complex to an incompetent tyrant of a woman. My husband and I are in the process of building a house that won't be ready until November, so instead of putting up with the new land lady from hell, we moved in with my parents until then. Let's just say that one does not truly appreciate peace and quiet...and sanity until they've moved back in with their parents and two younger brothers. Lol.

**P.S.** A few of you sent me a message saying you never got a new chapter alert. I myself actually missed a few on stories I follow so I'm guessing the FF servers had a problem. So if anybody **didn't get an alert** in May, go back and read the chapter 'Free' or else _none_ of this chapter will probably make **ANY** sense you!

* * *

Epilogue

**6 Years Later - Breaking Bad  
**

"I'm thinking about having my scar removed."

Brainy tore his eyes away from his book, peering over the rim at his wife with an eye brow raised in predictable interest as she sauntered out of the bathroom, letting her hair down, clean and dressed for the night. "Oh? Why the change of heart?" He asked, laying the tomb across his belly while she slid under the sheets beside him.

With a sigh, Helga gave a subtle lift of her shoulder before running her hand over the inside of her right arm, "I just…don't like it visible to the whole world anymore. Nobody ever says it, but…everybody knows what it is and what it's _from_. It's a reminder but it's also…_embarrassing_."

"Well, I think if you want to remove it, then you should. It's your body. You should feel comfortable in it."

"I'm thinking about replacing it with a tattoo."

Brian's eyes went wide, "A tattoo? Since when are you interested in _those_?" He chuckled.

A smirk broke out across Helga's face, "I'm not, _per say_. But I feel like if I get rid of it I need to replace it with something else…meaningful."

"Uh-huh. So are you going to get 'Parker' written on your arm?" He teased.

Helga tossed him an annoyed eye roll and playfully swatted at him, "_Ha!_ No. _But_ I have always liked your anchor. I like the symbolism of stability. I think it would be an appropriate fit, don't you think?"

Brainy folded his arms over his body and faced her, "So you want an anchor," He stated and she half-nodded, "On your arm." He finished, more than a little skeptical of the idea if it was indeed so.

"God, no. Somewhere out of sight."

_"Alright."_ Her husband smiled cheerily, "We'll have the scar taken care of and get you some maritime hipster ink."

"_Maybe_." She clarified, "I'm still deciding on the tattoo part."

* * *

"Because I don't want him here!" Brainy adamantly shouted.

Across the kitchen, Helga was looking nonplussed and every bit as fiery as he was, "What is the big deal?! It'd be for a month! Tops! He hasn't anywhere else to go!" She steadfastly returned.

"I don't care Helga! I'm not letting some...some ex-con druggie into _my_ house, or near _my_ girls! Especially one that was more than j_ust friends_ with _my_ wife!"

"Wow..." The blonde narrowed her eyes, "An ex-con druggie. When you put it that way: I didn't realize that I myself was so _unwelcome_ in _your_ house." With that, she turned and stormed out the porch, leaving Brainy more frustrated than ever.

In her absence, he combed his hands through his hair a few times, muttering an array of curse words under his breath before he sighed in defeat and ran after her.

Helga didn't bother with looking at him, instead, staring across the yard, jaw clenched tightly in frustration. A cigarette would have been nice about now. "Helga, I didn't mean it like that," He tried.

"Then how did you mean it, Brian?" She snapped.

"I just don't trust people. Especially near my family. People I don't know. What you're asking..."

Helga finally turned, "I wouldn't be asking if I thought he was in anyway sketchy. Do you really think I'd bring someone dangerous around my kids? Sid went to jail for heroine, not murder. He's harmless, he just needs to get his feet back underneath him," She said in a soft tone.

Brainy felt himself sag against the porch railing. "That aside honey, it'd just be weird for me, okay? I don't think I could even _look_ at him being near you without seeing-"

"Okay I get it," She caved. She knew the exact mental imagery boiling in his mind. "I'll just tell Gerald that he'll have to take him."

* * *

**9 Years Later - I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.  
**

Gerald had never had to fight the urge to laugh so hard before. When he'd gotten the call nearly 30 minutes ago, he'd almost thought it was some kind of practical joke, cooked up by his mischievous niece and a few his co-workers on that Friday night. After all, his 13th year on the force was that month, he was cautiously expecting some sort of shenanigans. But, oh no. No, no, there was no joke here. Not purposely anyway. After riding out of Hillwood and into the quaint country side, he'd ended up on a small cow farm with a young deputy, an amused farmer and five dirt caked, sweaty little 15-year-old girls leaning up against the squad car in a line, fright eyed, slightly ashamed, yet particularly proud looking with themselves.

"Cow tipping?" Gerald repeated, staring at the deputy and the farmer as perplexed as ever, "Now what is that exactly?"

The deputy propped a hand on his night stick, "Well, uh…you wait till the cow goes to sleep and you…give it a hard shove in the side and it falls over," He awkwardly explained with his hands.

Oh that was rich. Just rich. "And…were any cows…tipped?" Gerald replied in an absurdly strained voice, trying to keep it together, trying not to laugh.

"Well…yeah," The deputy nodded, "Three. They tipped three heifers."

"Three?!"

"And spooked a few goats."

"Look, deputy," The farmer stepped forward, to Gerald's great relief. God knows how much longer he was going to be able to keep his professional demeanor. "I already said I didn't want to press charges or anything. It's just a few girls. I just don't want them doing it again is all."

Gerald took a deep breath, "Alright. I'll take them back with me. Sorry about this, sir. I promise won't happen _again_." He shook the farmer's hand and then the deputy's before walking over to the squad car.

"Mmm-mmm-_mmmm._" He shook his head and crossed his arms, peering down at his niece and her friends with a mixture of amusement and disappointment.

"Hey Uncle Gerald…" Sender said. She was covered from head to toe in dirt.

"Come on. All of you, in my car." He shooed them off. They did what they were told and scurried off and into his car in a blink. And not a moment too soon, because once they were securely out of sight, the laughing began, exploding from where he'd bottled it up earlier. He dropped his head in his hand and just let go. God, it was one of the funniest things he'd ever heard of! Harassing sleeping live stock. Who knew?

A whole minute went by before he finally wiped a few tears away, collecting himself enough to get in the car and resume his authoritative posture. "What in God's name are you girls doing out here?" He finally asked as they drove off in the direction of town.

"We thought it would be fun," Sender immediately replied, knowing full and well that she'd be the main source of the grilling that was about to happen.

"You thought it would be fun?" They all nodded. "How did you even get out here?"

"We rode with some other people, but they chickened out and left us."

"Where were you all before?"

"School basketball game."

"And whose idea was _this_?"

"It was mine," Kate spoke up. Gerald glanced into his rear view to see the girl casually examining her nails. Feeling a pair of eyes on her, Kate looked up, "What? I saw it in a movie. It looked fun."

"We _all_ saw the movie," Chloe scolded.

The detective could only shake his head, "I get it, it was a collaboration," He resigned.

"Are you going to tell my mom and Brian?" Sender shyly looked over at him, looking as grim as ever about her fate.

"Do you think I _should_ tell them?" He countered.

His niece shrugged, "I mean, it's not like we were doing drugs or anything," She justified, and hoped that would be a good enough excuse for him. Hoped anyway. Her Uncle Gerald had always been cool.

Gerald didn't say anything for a moment as he thought about it, weighing his obligations and options. He could hear all the fearful gulps echoing around in the cab. "I'm going to let this one slide," He finally said. There was a collective sigh of relief, "Because you're good kids, all of you. However, don't do it _again_, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir!"

"Affirmative!"

* * *

"How was your sea bass?"

"It was good, actually. How about your duck?" Helga smiled across the table at Brainy. His face was cast in golden shadows from the candle lit restaurant they dined within. Quiet music and patrons chatter fluttered softly around them.

"The best I've had in awhile. Sure you don't want a bite?" Brian offered up a fork full of his meal to her.

She scrunched her face. "I'll pass."

Brian gobbled down his bite of food before thumbing the utensil down on his plate, "I have something for you," He said with a charming smile, and proceeded to dig into his inner sport coat pocket.

Helga pushed her plate away and folded her arms on top of the table, casting a coy smirk in reply, "You know it's not necessary."

"Nonsense, it's our anniversary. Besides, this is something extra special." He removed a rectangular shaped box and slid it across the table.

Helga couldn't bring herself to peel her blue orbs away from his as she reached for the gift. She watched the flicker a content sparkle with the candle flame for a moment more before opening the box. Inside was the most gorgeous rectangular faced silver wrist watch she'd ever seen. "Its beautiful, B," She gandered breathlessly.

"I thought you'd like it," He smiled, "But I think you'll like what's on the back better."

Helga didn't need need to be told twice, she pulled it from the box and flipped in over in her palm, and he was right, it _was_ even better. A lovely anchor had been engraved into the metal, with four words pressed around it in a U-shape.

"Fortis. Stabilis. Non haesitabit," She said, and looked up, "Strong, stable-"

"Never wavering," He finished for her, "I thought it was appropriate. 10 years of sobriety and all. Since you never _did_ go through with the tattoo."

It was a lovely, thoughtful gesture, and Helga was just beside herself with happiness. "I love it." She couldn't have wiped the smile off her face if she'd tried. "It's...its the best gift you could have given me, really." Her old watch was cast aside like yesterday's paper as she clasped the new one onto her wrist and gave it a jiggle. Perfect fit.

"I'm glad you like it."

At that point their waiter cut in, refilling drinks and taking dessert orders-vanilla bean crème brûlée-before skirting off again.

"So, I had something I wanted to discuss with you tonight as well," Helga said once the boy left. Her husband lifted a brow.

"I can't even begin to think of what," He looked a tad bit weary.

"It's nothing bad." She dismissed his worry, "I...got offered a job at Hillwood U."

Brian's eyes widened, "Really? Teaching?"

"What else?" She grinned.

"Is that something you think you'd enjoy? I know you were aiming for a counseling position."

Helga shrugged, "Gerald and I do the juvenile detention gig. I'm happy with that and...I think teaching could be interesting."

"If it's what you want."

"I do. I do want to do this."

"Well then," Briany raised his soda, "Happy anniversary, professor."

Helga clanked his glass, "Happy anniversary. And sayonara architectural firm." She said and took a congratulatory gulp. "Oh, guess who called me today." She chipped after a little while.

"I don't know, who?"

"Sid."

"Oh," Briany replied flatly, hiding his disdain with a tight grin, "How's he doing?"

"He's loving Montana. He's working on a ranch, said he's truly enjoying it."

"Well, hopefully that means it was a good move for him."

* * *

**11 Years Later - Bizarre love triangle.  
**

The day before, she'd moped around a bit melancholy, skipping dinner, going to bed at a rather early hour, even for her, and then trudging off to school the next morning looking every bit as apathetic as before. That night, while she had joined her family, she'd been quiet all dinner, barely touching her meal, and it was her favorite. Now Helga found her in the basement, vegging out on the sofa in sweats, watching re-runs of some gossip girl show and eating Ben and Jerry's _chocolate therapy_ ice cream right out of the container. And if Helga prided herself on knowing _anything_ about her eldest child, she knew that it _wasn't_ a good sign.

"Hey."

"Hey, mama," Sender mumbled.

Helga frowned, even more concerned than before. If she was using _mama_ instead of _mom_, something was definitely wrong. "You've seemed a little down lately. You feeling alright?"

"No."

Helga walked over and sat down, shooing Maury's pudgy little butt over as she did. "Is it something you want to talk about?" She gently pried.

Sender took another gloomy bite of her ice cream. She didn't come right out and say anything for a full minute, and Helga briefly wondered if she even would, but after another spoon full of dairy therapy, a deflated sigh finally gusted from her person. She sat up, "Brad broke up with me."

"Oh…" Helga felt her heart sink into the pit of her stomach, "I'm sorry sweetheart."

Her baby's first break up. And while the mama in her wanted to go hunt down the little prick and knock him upside the head one good time for causing her little girl heartbreak and anguish, she'd also have to give him a hug for leaving Sender _alone_. To put it mildly, she'd never much cared for that kid, though _unlike_ Brian, she'd never made it particularly vocal.

"Yeah," Sender grimly stared at the tub she held, dejectedly stabbing the contents with her spoon, "I mean, I thought we were like…fine and all, but I guess not."

"This happened yesterday?" Made sense. She'd been her normal happy-go-lucky self two days prior.

Sender nodded and exhaled a frustrated breath, "He sent me a text message in second block. A _text message! _Said he had some _things_ to figure out and that we weren't working. But then, I get to lunch and he's got Eva Doates _all_ up in his lap with his tongue down her throat. And she is _such_ a ho bag too."

"Sender…" Helga began scolding.

"No mom, _really_, this girl will sleep with anything on two legs that's male," She steadfastly insisted. Even though doing so caused her to become even more depressed. The 17-year-old slumped her shoulders with a sigh and took another spoonful of her ice cream, "I guess when _I_ wouldn't give him what he wanted he decided he was going to find somebody that _would_."

Helga looked at her daughter, a tad bit awe struck for a fraction of a second before a ghost of a smile began playing across her lips. She wasn't really expecting that, nor did she immediately have anything to say back, but it seemed she wouldn't have to because Sender caught her stare and answered with a roll of her eyes, "Good grief…yeah mom I'm still a virgin. Don't act all surprised." All Helga was thinking about was how much she wanted to reach over, give her a bone crushing hug and kiss her.

"I'm…" Helga finally began, "Well, quite honestly as a mother, it _is_ one of the best things you can ever hear from your teenage daughter." Helga was no naïve individual, and that went for her parenting as well. She didn't sit around, blindly believing that her daughter was a total angel, though she really _was_ a good kid, but Helga had been a teenager once too, she knew what they were up to…or wanted to be up to, the same stuff she herself had been up.

"Sure." Sender gave her mom a quick, small smile before turning back to playing with her spoon, "I guess things weren't so okay after all huh?"

"No, it doesn't sound like it."

"He was great when we first started dating but, the last couple of months he just got…pushy. I guess because more and more of his friends were…yeah, and I'm sorry but I think your first time should be because it feels right and special and not because everybody else is…hooking up or whatever and you feel like you should too just because they are."

Helga was impressed, and she didn't bother hiding it, "Kid, you're far wiser than your age."

"I don't know about wise. I think I'm just an overly sentimental girl if anything."

"There isn't anything wrong with that. And it's not just a girl thing. Your father was the same way," Helga pointed out.

Sender chuckled. She should have known. "Of _course_ he was. Is there anything about me that isn't him?"

Helga thought about it for a moment, "Not really-well...you got my more cooperative hair," She offered absently. For some reason, Sender began chuckling harder, eliciting a curious smile from her mother, "What's so funny now?"

"I was just thinking...I don't think dad liked Brad much. He always told me that he got a creepy feeling in our house. Like somebody was watching him."

The older blonde snorted, "Yeah, I imagine he probably didn't," She conceded. A silent moment went by before Helga looked at her daughter closely, "Think you're going to be okay?"

Sender sighed, "Yeah I'll live. It still really sucks though. Getting dumped, via _text message_, during school."

"Come here." Helga gestured her daughter over. Sender sat the ice cream down and slid over into her mother's embrace, Maury getting shoved out onto the floor, "Rejection is never fun, but you'll bounce back before you know it." Helga hugged her tightly, "It seems like the end of the world, but its just a moment in time."

"I know," The teen agreed, "The girls just think I need a good rebound." She smirked up at her mom, whose reply was a stern but skeptical stare.

"_Right_."

Sender giggled, "Which is totally me..._not_. I think I might just ride it out with Ben and Jerry over there."

Suddenly the door at the top of the stairs swung open, colliding with the wall whilst a thudding march came stomping down. "Mommy…" A little blonde girl groaned. Helga's eyes went wide when she saw her youngest covered in a globby, pink mess, dripping all over the carpet, and looking none too thrilled about it.

"Regan, what on earth are you covered in?"

Her little girl propped her hands up on her hips and scowled, "Daddy turned the blender on without the top."

* * *

"Hey Sender…"

The girl looked away from the baseball field to see a certain brown headed young man, dressed in a jersey, standing at the end of the bleacher where she sat. "Hey Riley."

"What uh, what are you doing here?" He scratched the back of his neck shyly.

She casually gestured to two figures standing down by the dugout. "Waiting with Amber…who was waiting for Scott."

"Oh, right," He nodded. "You mind if I sit down?" She did mind. She minded _a lot_. She really didn't want to be bothered, but she didn't necessarily want to be mean either. So she shook her head, and he slid into the row and planted down beside her. Neither muttered a word for a few minutes. It was fine by her, though she couldn't ignore how stiff silence was. Riley finally glanced at her from the corner of his eye, taking note of how sad she still looked, hiding underneath her well worn blue NYPD ball cap that was typically reserved only for the occasional bad hair day or a trip to the river. Her normally bubbly personality was as flat as old soda and her electric eyes, dimly smothered, "Are you okay?"

Sender's brow knitted, "Why?" She began giving him an accusing look.

The boy quickly shrugged, "I, you know…I heard what happened this week is all."

God _Almighty._ She wanted to bite his head off, nearly having to bite her tongue off to keep her cool. The _whole_ school knew! Lines in the sand were being drawn and sides being taken, with more than half of everybody siding with p.s. 120's 'golden girl' rather than Brad, and she couldn't be anymore sick to death of the whole thing if she tried. It was nobody's business but her's and Brad's. That's what she wanted to tell Riley.

She wanted to say 'butt out and mind your own business' as rudely as possible and stomp off to continue her solitude elsewhere. But as she looked at Riley she couldn't help but notice that he seemed _genuinely_ concerned with _her_ emotional well being, as _opposed_ to being concerned about getting the scoop like everybody else was. The more she thought about it, the more she appreciated it. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks," She finally said.

Riley looked relieved, relaxing his tense posture a bit as he nodded. Sender wasn't sure if it was because she didn't rip him a new ass hole or because she'd told him she was alright. A little of both maybe? She didn't want to know. "If you want…I could kick his butt for you," He offered with a corner smile.

The blonde just blinked over at him, "I'm sorry what?"

"I said, I'd kick his butt for you."

Sender snorted, "You dweeb."

"What?" Riley threw her another crooked smile.

Sender thinned her eyes at him, his smile infectiously quirking up her own lips, "Since when are you the brawling type?" She asked. The young man said nothing as he flexed his bicep at her. There was no denying that he certainly would have been capable of causing Brad a bad day, the baseball had really bulked him up exceptionally well. Sender had to catch herself from oogling at the muscles bunching underneath his sun kissed skin. Finally, she mentally shook yourself, "Well, as tempting as it is, I wouldn't want you to get in trouble on my behalf."

Riley chuckled and looked at her for another moment before turning his gaze out over the baseball field. "For what it's worth, guys like him _deserve_ girls like Eva," He said. Sender turned and looked at him. Riley gave her a corner glance before tilting his head at her and shrugging, fighting back a bashful smile, "They _don't_ deserve girls like you. You're…sweet and funny and passionate and…just too special of a person for somebody like Brad Marrow to appreciate."

"Thanks Riley." Sender realized that her face had flushed. She tried to hide it by bringing her hand up and running it through her hair a few times, but she was sure he saw it because he smiled and ran the palm of his hand over her upper back. The warm and fuzzys began bubbling in the pit of her stomach, and she wasn't sure why, or if she liked it.

"You're welcome."

Thankfully her phone chirped, almost as if it knew she needed saving at the moment. It was Amber with a 'I'm staying' text. She looked up and saw her friend waving and returned the gesture before shooting up, leaving Riley's hand and warm spark it was rubbing into her shoulder blades behind. "Well I guess I'm getting out of here. Amber's staying," She awkwardly said, shrugging her book bag onto her shoulder.

"Oh. Yeah. Of course." Riley stood up, "Uh, take care. I'll uh…see you around."

Sender quickly nodded, "Yeah. You too." She turned and began walking down the bleachers, only making it about 4 feet before her gut began giving her a nudge that she couldn't ignore. The warm and fuzzies, they made her feet grow anchors, refusing to allow her one more step. She finally spun around, resolved that she wasn't going to be leaving that baseball field alone. "You want to walk with me to my car, Riley?" She asked with a smirk.

* * *

**12 Years Later - Mischief managed.**

THUD!

Sender bolted out of her computer chair as if it had burned her, nearly tripping over herself to get to the window to see the boy crouching on the roof outside. It was Friday night, which meant if she wasn't out with her girls, she was probably having a secret sleep over with her boyfriend. She threw open the pane and Riley heaved himself inside, collapsing onto the carpet, lying flat on his back as dramatically as possible.

"Good grief, noisy much? You want my mom and Brian to catch us?"

"_Sorry_. I'm incredibly sore!" He groaned, Sender throwing him an up most disbelieving expression as she closed the window.

"How often do you make that climb?"

The brunette lulled his head from side to side, "Not that. Coach gave us an _insane_ work out today."

"Oh." Sender's skeptical expression evaporated into one of intrigue. "Well, you poor baby." She sat down, straddling his lap, leaning over and running her slender digits through his freshly showered hair. "Luckily for you, I know just what'll make you feel better…" She gave him an amatory smirk, jade eyes sparkling like a pair of emeralds as she trailed her finger down his cheek, his chin, and onto his Adam's Apple.

Riley wanted to cry. He squeezed his eyes shut in a strained expression as his hands came to rest on her hips. "I…think I'm too sore…" He moaned in despair.

In sheer disbelief, Sender could only manage to scoff, "Wow...apparently that really _was_ an insane work out." and with a sigh of finality, she gave him a quick peck on the lips and stood up, offering him her hand. Riley climbed to his feet and made a lumbering bee line to her bed, crawling into the sheets with delighted mewls of relief.

"Hey lover boy." The blonde poked him as she climbed in beside him, fetching her channel changer off her bed side and flipping her television on. "Are you too tired to watch a movie or are you just going to go to sleep?"

Riley rolled onto his back and gave her one of his crooked smiles, "Nah, I'm not sleepy, I just can't move. What's on?"

"I've got 'Kick Ass' recorded."

"Oh yeah, I did want to see that."

Sender hit the play button and they settled in. Riley pulled her to him and she willingly curled up around her favorite guy. Still an excellent way to spend the night, in her opinion. But, peace and quiet wasn't to be had that night. Barely 10 minutes had gone by when a distinct metallic giggle permeated through the room. "Oh no…" She frantically whispered, bolting upright, just knowing that she'd somehow forgotten to lock her door.

When the door slowly swung open she'd expected to see her mom, or Brian, or both, faces weighted down with disappointment and anger. What she didn't expect, was her kid sister, whom leaned uber casually up against the door jam with a snarkly raised brow, "Well, well, well. I thought I heard a commotion on your side of the house," Regan drawled.

"Regan, what are you doing?" She hissed with wide eyes.

"Breaking into your room, crimeny, what does it look like?"

"Wait, you...how did you get in here?" Sender demanded.

The little blonde flashed a shiny, gold colored rectangle, "One of Daddy's credit cards."

"Get out of here." Sender pointed to the door.

"You know, I don't think they'd like that you've got him up here."

"What are you saying?"

Regan deviously smirked, "That you're going to do something for me or I'm going down stairs and _telling_ them."

Sender folded her arms across her chest and quirked a brow confidently, "I don't think you will."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mmhmm, and I'll tell you why. If you go down there and rat me out, you're going to get in trouble too for A) breaking into my room and B) taking one of dad's credit cards to do so."

Regan narrowed her eyes and propped a hand onto her sassily cocked hip, "Touche' _Sendi-rella_," She jeered, "I _would_ get in trouble. But not as much trouble as _you_."

Riley cleared his throat, "You know the irony of it all is we, for once, weren't even doing anything," He pointed out...and was completely ignored.

Sender's lips pressed into a thin line and she took a moment to look her little sister over, "I'm calling your bluff, little sis," She finally announced.

"_Fine_," Regan defiantly folded her arms and strolled into the hallway, "_Mom!_" She called.

"Okay, okay, okay!" Sender tumbled out of her bed and bounded to the door the second she heard their mother inquiry from downstairs, picturing her already sitting up to come investigate.

Regan smirked, "Nevermind!" She called back sweetly.

The older blonde hurried out into the hallway, making sure she closed her door behind her and glowered down at the petite girl, not appreciative at all of being leveraged so efficiently by such a small human being. "Alright, what do you want?"

"I want you to take me to the movies this weekend."

Sender deadpanned, "The movies?!" She quietly hissed. "Why can't you get mom or dad to take you?"

"Because I don't _want_ to go with them," Regan was adamant.

"Regan, I don't have time for this."

Her sister rolled her eyes and huffed, "You _never_ have time do you?" She nearly stomped her foot she was so frustrated.

Sender knew that her sister could be a little on the manipulative side. She knew from...pretty much everybody that Regan was a _whole_ lot like their mother when she was that age. Sure she was a little more than mad about having her privacy intruded, but it suddenly occurred to her that perhaps her little sister wasn't being a brat, perhaps she was just lashing out at being forgotten by her older sister.

Sender squatted down, "What's this really about?"

For a moment, Regan refused to say anything. She could only glare at her older sister through a pair of electric blues. "I'm blackmailing you, doi!" She leered.

"Regan..."

She sighed and her eyes fell to the floor, "We don't ever do things anymore, because you're always busy with Riley or other stuff," She began begrudgingly confessing, "And next year, you're going to be away at college and I wont _ever_ get to see you."

Sender softened, "Hey, that's not true."

"Yes it is and you known it."

"I...I know. You're right. I've been busy. I haven't forgotten about you though." She reached out an brushed a strand of Regan's hair from her eyes. "We'll go to the movies this weekend and I swear that we'll spend as much time together as possible before I leave."

"Promise?" Regan eyeballed her.

"Promise."

* * *

**17 Years Later - Roam if you want to.**

"Are you freaking kidding me!? Sender...no! You can't-I can't believe you'd do that! Absolutely_ not_! You're getting on a plane and you're coming home immediately!" Helga was practically bear gripping their home phone.

Brian, hearing all the yelling, had come rushing into the kitchen in bewilderment.

"Oh good God, I can't even think straight right now. I can't..." She dropped the phone to her chest, catching sight of her husband for the first time since the conversation had began. "Here. Talk to her." She thrust the phone into his person and began rooting through their kitchen junk drawer, "I can't even..." She trailed off when she found a pack of cigarettes, hidden in a tin at the very back. Without another word she ran out onto the back porch and lit up.

"Sender?" Brian held the phone to his ear, still staring at his wife through the bay window.

_"Hey B."_

"Sender, what did you_ tell her?_" All he got from the other end was a sigh, "You've got to tell me something, because at this point I can only think of three things that would make you're mother _that_ frantic. Either you've gotten arrested, dropped out of school, or you're pregnant, which is it? Am I close?"

_"Oh good grief, I just got off a plane in Germany. Amber, Kate, Chloe, Emma and I are going to spend the summer backpacking through the European country side and staying in hostels."_

"You're doing _what_?!"

_"Honestly Pops-"_

"-Sender that-that's incredibly unsafe!"

_"We'll be fine. We're meeting the guys in Paris in a month, and we'll see you in July. I'll call every night, I promise."_

Brainy was already out the back door. Helga stopped her pacing, staring at her husband's ashen, wide-eyed face, blowing smoke over shoulder. He now had the phone clutched to his chest. "Find my passport." Was all he said.

Before Helga could utter a response, Regan came clamoring out the backdoor, nearly tripping over her own two feet and colliding into her dad. "What'd I miss?" She righted herself. "I heard yelling and Sender's name. Did she actually get into some real trouble?!" She excitedly inquired.

Helga took a heavy drag off of her cigarette, "I'll say. Your sister thought it was a good idea to hop on a plane and spend her summer in _Europe._"

Regan's face fell, mouth falling agape, "No fair!"

* * *

**20 Years Later - Smooth sailing.**

Oh the blessed day had arrived, 26 years in the making. She'd known that this was heading down the pike at some point, yet no matter how much she'd emotionally prepared for it, there she was, doing everything she could to preserve her mascara until the ceremony.

"Mom, you okay?"

Regan snorted from the wall she leaned against, popping gum loudly, "She's envisioning you as like...a giggling infant," She teased.

"Honey I wouldn't laugh," Emma nudged the teen in the arm, "You're last. She's going to cling to you like lent to a black skirt."

Helga didn't hear a word of the exchange. Her eyes were glued to Sender, eloquently dressed in a flowing white shoulderless gown, her hair cascading down past her shoulder in curling waves of shimmering gold. Simple, but elegant. "You look gorgeous sweetheart," She gushed.

"Thanks mom."

"Do you guys need a moment?" Amber asked.

Sender smiled and nodded, "Please."

The five bridesmaids filed out of the dressing room, leaving mother and daughter alone. Sender smoothed her hands over her dress, "Do I look ready?" She then began nervously knotting them together.

Helga knew how frazzled Sender was, she just couldn't believe she was holding it together as well as she appeared to be. "As ready as you'll ever be," She tried to comfort her. Sender laughed but her mother could still hear the edginess woven through her airy voice. "It's easier than it looks."

"Is it? I just want everything to be perfect, you know?"

Helga smiled, "It will be." She felt her eyes begin to water painfully, enough to warrant a quick lid wipe with her finger. She didn't exactly appreciate the water works, but her baby was no longer her baby! She was grown, she was getting married today. She was starting her own life with a wonderful man. When did she grow up? Where had the time gone?

"Are you crying? Mom, you never cry."

"I know." Helga sniffed, "It's a big day." She turned and sat down in a nearby chair. Sender did the same, "You know, twice in my life I almost lost you. Now I _am_ losing you, but in the best way imaginable."

"Aw, mom."

"I know things were a little weird in the beginning but, everything turned out fine, you turned out fine. It's...we'll, it's more than I ever hoped for."

Sender quietly chuckled, "I've got to hand it to you mom, you pulled it off well. It was a little hairy there for a minute, especially when I thought you were never coming back for me. But, you and me...we got here in one piece. I guess in the end that's what matters." Sender knew everything, and had known since she was 14 when she went inquiring to uncle Gerald after watching a Nat Geo drug Inc special on tv. Helga had initially been furious with him. She'd wanted her past life dead, buried, and gone, and certainly not ever known by her girls. That was until she got into her car one morning and saw a note taped to the steering wheel that simply said, 'You're still my mom. -S'

Helga felt a smile course warmly across her lips, "That's all that matters." She leaned forward and gave her a tight hug, "Oh, you grew up on me too fast!"

Sender chuckled, "Not _that_ fast. You've still got Regan. I don't see her going anywhere for awhile."

Helga pulled away and peered at her daughter with a knowing expression, "Yes but, you'll always be my first and oldest. You'll understand one day."

A knock came, followed by the wedding coordinator poking her head in, "Helga, we're seating the mothers."

Helga looked back to Sender and took a breath, "I'll see you in a bit." She gave her hand a squeeze, "You're going to knock Riley's socks off," She teased as she got up.

"Your dad will be back to get you in 10 min, Sender," The woman cheerfully said and closed the door.

"Right about the dad part but off by about, oh...9 minutes and 53 seconds."

Sender bolted from her chair, nearly suffering a fatal heart attack. From the mirror, she could see her father standing on the opposite side of the room, dressed sharply in a formal black suit. She whipped around, face hidden by her wide eyes. Greens meeting an identical pair of greens. "Dad?" Her voice quivered. Was it? Arnold didn't look like the pictures she'd seen, a young, vivacious 20-year-old. He looked his true age, had he lived of course, but he was _dead_, how was that possible? She couldn't even continue focusing on that. There was an angelic glow about him that was mesmerizing, alluring.

He drew closer, eyes twinkling in response. "You look stunning." He tenderly smiled.

Sender was still flabbergasted, now leaning heavily against the vanity counter. "You're...but how...I mean..._Dad!_"

"That's me. I came aged." He held his arms out. "I figured it'd be weird if I looked as young as my daughter."

At that, Sender managed to pull herself off the vanity, shelving her surprise in favor of a newly excited smile, "That's...it's, um..." That was her dad! The very man she'd always longed to meet. Standing casually before her. The man that she knew always kept watch over her, but never showed himself, despite the countless times as a child that she'd begged him to. Now here she was, finally getting her wish and she couldn't even think what to say to him! She must've looked so silly, stuttering like an incoherent fool.

Arnold appeared not to notice, he just kept smiling, "About to get married. It seems like just yesterday I was watching mom swaddle you up like a little caterpillar for the night. That was my favorite time, you know, because once she went to sleep, I held you for hours."

"And mom likes to brag about what a great sleeper I was as a baby," Sender jokingly remarked, surprised that a full-fledged sentence came out of her mouth.

"Secret weapon." Arnold thumbed at himself and his daughter giggled. "So, tell me about this guy."

Sender snorted, "Psht, '_this guy?_' He's _only_ the love of my life. Shouldn't you know all this?" She teased.

"Hey, I'm a guardian, not a spy," He defended, "But yeah, I do know. I just wanted to hear you're reaction."

"And do you approve? Wait, you're not here to stop me are you?"

Her father knowingly smirked, "He never got creeped out in the house did he?" He winked.

Sender's eyes went wide, "Oh-I knew it! I knew that was you!"

"Yeah, that was me. I like Riley though. I knew he was the one the day he threw that rock at you on the playground." Arnold's eyes were twinkling again, "Its funny how life is, how it repeats itself. So, are you excited?"

Sender exhaled, "I'm nervous. I'm mean, what if I trip, or stutter, or forget my vows? You know how embarrassing that'll be?"

Arnold chuckled, "You'll be fine," He soothing assured, "Your mother on the other hand..." He trailed off with a smirk. "You'll nail it sweetheart."

"You're right. I just have to stop thinking about it and just do it." Sender resolved with a nod. "It's going to be great. No falling or stuttering."

"Deep breath," Arnold instructed. Sender did as she was told, and then exhaled. "No worries." An easy silence settled between the two as Sender began collecting her nerves. After a minute he asked, "Feel better?" She nodded. "The trick to anything, is to just breath."

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Is there ever going to be a day when you aren't around anymore?"

Arnold nodded, "One day. _But_ not for awhile."

"Good."

"I'm surprised that you don't have a million questions for me," Arnold admitted.

Sender chuckled with a shrug, "I don't know. Guess I'm still too awestruck to think of any."

"I tend to have that effect on people," Arnold joked.

"It's a gift enough to have finally met you."

"Speaking of gift, I have something for you," Arnold reached into his inner vest pocket leaving Sender as perplexed as ever about what it could be. Could spirits buy things? He offered his hand to her, and placed a eloquent string of pearls in her open palm. Sender was at a loss for words. "They were my grandmother's, and then my mother's, and eventually would have been you're mother's had I have gotten the chance."

"Where were..."

"You know all that stuff of mine in the attic that mom gave you? Where all of my hats were?" Sender nodded. "They were in that stuff. I nabbed them before you could find them for just such an occasion."

"Wow...they're...they're beautiful." She looked up at him with a smile.

"Want to put them on?" Sender eagerly nodded, handing them over and turning around. She pulled her hair out of the way and Arnold draped the necklace around her neck and fastened it. "There," He looked at her in the mirror, seeing her grinning.

"Perfect," She said.

A knock came from the door. Her eyes shot to her father's. "Sender? We're ready," She heard Brian's muffled voice say.

"Just a minute!" She called out and spun around.

"I suppose that's your cue." Arnold happily smiled.

Sender on the other hand looked thwarted, "Am I ever going to get to see you again, like this?"

"Maybe." Sender nodded. Before she could reply though, Arnold wrapped his arms around her in a big hug. "Deep breath, no worries," He whispered, "I love you sweetheart."

Sender hugged him back tightly, "I love you too, daddy."

"Now," He pulled back, "Go kick some wedding ceremony behind."

"You got it." Sender laughed.

* * *

"From the day you arrived,

I've stayed by your side,

Placed inside, safe and sound." -Deftones (Entombed)

* * *

The End.

That's it, no more! Done! I'm about to cry in relief and sadness. Hope you guys enjoyed it. I know it wasn't the ideal HelgaxArnold story but, I love beautifully imperfect scenarios. That's life. I appreciate all of you who stuck it out with me. Acosta perez jose ramiro, DyingXDasies,MRobitussin, Nep2uune, Twilightfucker, Hanna cabrodi, rabias, EJ, Shiona Acitiu, 4elementgirl, Sandra Strickland, 77, bunny7433, mortay 3, etc, etc.

Thanks so much for being an outstanding audience! I could not have done this without you all!

Also, if anybody is interested, I've got another story I'm doing right now called, **"What are the odds?"** It's a light HelgaxArnold comedy. Not at all like this story, lol. But I do have another angsty sort of HxA short I'm thinking about throwing up called "**The Elevator."** So, keep watch for that.


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